


Maelstrom

by TheAbyssStaresBack (Mushy_Snugglebites)



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Angst, Blackmail, But he keeps trying, Coercion, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Everything Hurts, F/M, Humiliation, M/M, Power Imbalance, Rape, Sexual Abuse, Shame, all hurt/very little comfort, and yet..., everyone is terrible, he keeps hoping, he's not the best person, hella twisted tale of shitty people abusing each other, not entirely canon-compatible, poor Reno, so grimdark, some more than others, though that's the least of the problems in this fic, underage sex (age 15)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2018-11-15 10:54:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 20
Words: 43,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11229471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mushy_Snugglebites/pseuds/TheAbyssStaresBack
Summary: A sordid tale of sex, abuse, and betrayal.Reno of the Turks, eighteen years old, will do anything to keep his job and stay out of the slums. As time goes on, though, the demands from his higher-ups get seedier and seedier. The hell above the plate begins to resemble the one below, until only one ray of light remains: the flower girl from the Sector 5 slums. Yet like the sun itself, she's forever out of his reach – or so he thinks.





	1. Into the Mire

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't checked out the tags yet, please do so before you go any further. This story is not a happy place.

Reno opened the door to Rufus Shinra's office. After the usual cursory scan of the room, he moved aside and held the door open for its owner. Rufus's long, white coat billowed around his legs as he strode to his desk.

"Leave," he snapped. "I have work to do."

Reno bit down on his derisive snort at the last second. He shut the door behind him and sank down in one of the two chairs that sat side by side near the door. He took his time stretching out his legs in front of himself, then pushed his hands into his pockets.

"Sorry," he said, not feeling sorry at all. "I gotta stay here until Tseng shows up. Orders from the boss."

He finished with a grin. Rufus glared daggers at him.

Tseng had warned Reno not to piss off the ill-tempered heir of Shinra, and most of the time he was on his best behavior. It had been a long day, though, and Reno only had so much patience to go around. As far as he was concerned, Rufus could blame himself if he insisted on acting like a pissy brat.

And a brat he could certainly be. Reno knew they were the same age, but it was hard to tell at times. As he balanced on the back legs of his chair, he idly wondered which of them were the older one.

"Stop ruining my chair. It's worth more than you are."

Reno let it fall with a loud thud, and smiled cheerfully when Rufus's eyes narrowed. He got up for a stroll around the office. Eighteen years old Rufus was, and already he had a cushy job in a cushy office in the highest tier of Shinra HQ. Must be nice, Reno mused, being the President's son. All he had was the "privilege" of risking his life for this brat.

How strange that they would end up professionally paired up, Reno thought idly as he sauntered toward Rufus's desk. Even their physical appearances were complete opposites. Rufus in his pristine white suit, Reno in Turk black. Rufus's blonde hair was combed back flat against his head; Reno's was a red explosion on the top of his head, sticking out in all directions. Rufus was as frigid as Shiva herself, whereas Reno was every bit the fiery redhead he looked.

A series of shiny silver balls were strung up in a metal frame on the desk. Reno flicked one of them, and metallic clicks echoed through the room as the balls smacked into each other.

"Seriously, get out of here," Rufus spat. "You're giving me a headache."

"Just accept it, Shinra. There's nothing you can do to get rid of me until the boss man shows up."

"I can get you fired."

For once, Reno's smartass mouth failed him. He scoffed and ambled over to the bookcase at the opposite side of the room.

"You think I won't? I can make the phone call right now. Tseng will probably show up just in time to cart your pathetic self straight down to the slums."

Rufus's voice had turned smooth and smug. Reno felt a chill creep across the back of his neck. _Prove it_ , he wanted to say, but the words shriveled up in his throat. Rufus may have been a spoiled brat, but empty threats were not his style.

Behind him, the leather of Rufus's chair creaked softly.

"That got your attention, didn't it?"

"Huh? You say something?"

"Turn around."

Reno placed a smirk on his face and spun around with a flourish. Rufus wasn't smiling. A strange gleam appeared in his eyes as he looked Reno over. Reno didn't like the look of it.

"Look, man... I'm just doing my job, alright?"

Rufus smiled. Reno knew that cold smile only appeared on Shinra junior's face when he smelled victory.

"It's your job to obey my orders, is it not?"

His stare made the back of Reno's neck crawl. He didn't know where this was going, but he knew trouble when it closed in on him.

"Not if it goes against the boss man's orders, or against the company."

"Excluding those conditions," Rufus said, his voice hard, "it's your job to obey my orders. Is it not?"

He didn't look like an eighteen-year-old brat anymore. Not one bit.

The chill on Reno's neck was spreading. His face felt cold, too.

"Yeah."

"Good. Since you refuse to leave my office, you may as well make yourself useful and suck my cock."

Reno blinked. It took him a moment to parse the sentence again, to double-check what he'd heard – and then he burst into incredulous laughter.

"Is this some kinda joke?"

Rufus's icy smile didn't falter.

"It's a direct order, Turk. Get on your knees and suck my cock."

The blood drained from Reno's face. A deep dark anger was rising, and mingled with the sick feeling that turned his stomach.

"Fuck you, man," he spat. "I don't get paid enough to listen to your messed-up shit."

He stomped across the room, heading straight for the door.

"Touch that door, and you'll be stripped of your position before the day's end."

Reno's hand hovered over the handle as a flash of sense cut through his fury. If Tseng arrived to find him outside, he'd be in trouble. It would be easy for Rufus to come up with some fat lie and make it worse. What could Reno do about it? It'd be the word of Shinra's heir against a slum punk who'd spent a few months in the Turk uniform. Even if Tseng decided to listen to Reno, the board of executives wouldn't.

Reno let his hand fall.

"Come here," Rufus ordered.

Reno moved mechanically, obeying the order like one of Scarlet's lifeless robots. It wasn't just the job. His apartment was owned by Shinra. His car was a company car. His colleagues, his friends... Shinra owned his whole damn life.

Rufus had swiveled his chair around to the side. Reno rounded the desk and stopped before him. Rufus smiled wider as he sank back in his chair and spread his legs.

"You know what to do."

Reno slumped down to his knees. Had his legs given out? He couldn't tell. All he knew was that his heart was thumping its way out of his chest so hard he couldn't even breathe. His tie felt too tight around his neck, but he found himself unable to reach up and loosen it. He couldn't move at all.

He couldn't go back to the slums. Without the protection of his Turk suit and the almighty Shinra behind it, his old gang would take him out in a heartbeat. It wouldn't be pretty, and it sure as hell wouldn't be quick.

Rufus was looking down at him, his smile so smug, so haughty. Did this little Shinra shit even realize what it would mean for Reno to lose his job? Did he think Reno was doing this just so he could afford to keep his car, or to go on a fucking sunshine holiday in fucking Costa del Sol every year?

It didn't matter. Rufus had him by the balls.

As Reno reached for Rufus's fly, it was as though he was standing behind his own shoulder, staring at himself. It didn't feel like he was pulling down the zipper or slipping his fingers into Rufus's underwear; he was just watching himself do it. It was like watching some fucked-up horror flick.

The illusion shattered once Rufus's cock was jutting out of the gap in his clothes. The veiny dick right in front of his face, bulging and fully erect, was too terrifyingly real. Reno's mind was a blank as he stared at the mushroom-shaped tip of Rufus's erection. He knew where he was, he knew what he was seeing, but he just couldn't understand any of it. His mind refused to stitch the pieces together.

Without warning, Rufus sank both his hands into Reno's hair and shoved his head into his crotch. The tip of Rufus's cock hit the corner of Reno's mouth and smeared a trail of precum across his cheek. He drew in a startled gasp, just as Rufus tried again. His cock pushed past Reno's parted lips and rammed straight to the back of his throat. He coughed and sputtered, and Rufus let him draw back a little – but not all the way.

"We don't have all day," Rufus growled. "Get on with it, unless you want Tseng to see you on your knees like a little bitch."

Reno panicked at Tseng's name and tried to yank his head back, but Rufus pushed him down again. He did it again and again, using Reno's hair for leverage. Reno flailed around for support and grabbed Rufus's thigh. He managed to get his other hand in between them and grasped Rufus's cock, to keep it from going too deep. Rufus didn't stop tearing at Reno's hair. He didn't even slow down.

Reno couldn't think – he could barely _breathe_ – but one thing stood out in his mind, blinking bright like a neon sign. If Tseng found him like this, it'd be the end of his Turk career. He had to make this stop, as quickly as possible.

Reno pressed his tongue against the hard member that pistoned back and forth in his mouth. He squeezed his hand into a fist around Rufus's cock and kept his hand mashed up against his lips as Rufus flung his head up and down. Reno's hand was enough to save him from choking, but he was still struggling to draw air. The panic was sinking in again, tightening around his chest. What if he ran out?

Rufus groaned, bucking his hips, and a wet spurt hit the back of Reno's throat; thick and warm and _revolting_. He gagged, but Rufus had his head in a vice, pushing him down on his cock as more cum pulsed out of it. Desperate for air, Reno swallowed.

Rufus released him at last, and Reno fell back against the desk, coughing and gasping. The urge to swallow down the sick feeling rising in his throat warred with the bitter taste of semen in his mouth. His mind was spinning, careening out of control. It couldn't be real, it _couldn't_ be... but his jaw was sore and his scalp prickled with the pinpricks of dozens of tiny hot needles; and that sour, slimy residue, coating the back of his tongue–

"Get off the floor," Rufus sneered. "Tseng will be here any minute."

Reno's stomach did a queasy flip. Tseng would take one look at him and know exactly what he'd done. He couldn't let his boss see him, not like this. Reno struggled to his feet, barely aware of what he was doing. He staggered out of the office and down the hall to the nearest bathroom, and crashed into the first stall just as the retching began.


	2. A Moment of Weakness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone's wondering, I'm using the names listed in the Final Fantasy Wiki for the BC player Turks.

Balto sighed with relief when the door to the hotel suite clicked shut. The sound heralded the start of some peace and quiet at last. He set down his katana with a hand that still felt unsteady from the adrenaline rush and dragged his tired, aching body into the shower.

Fifteen steaming minutes later Balto emerged, a towel wrapped around his hips. He glanced around the suite, but saw no sign of Cissnei, the Turk he was partnered with for this mission. Balto wasn't concerned. He'd taught his trainee Turk well.

In his bedroom, he went straight for the bed and collapsed onto his back. He dragged a hand up to his face to pull off his glasses, and let them fall where his arm landed on the mattress. He didn't move when he heard the suite door open and close. The sound of running water in the bathroom began and ended as Balto flopped on the bed, his arms spread wide and his legs hanging over the edge.

A knock on his bedroom door made him flinch out of near-sleep. He groaned quietly, but lifted his head off the mattress.

"Yes?"

Cissnei nudged the door open and peeked in. When she saw him on the bed, she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. Like Balto, she only wore a towel, and her auburn hair was damp.

"Hi."

Her greeting was hesitant. Balto retrieved his glasses for a better look at her. She kept her arms wrapped tightly around her slim body and was gently gnawing at her bottom lip.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Oh, it's... It's nothing really. I just wanted to check that you're okay."

"Isn't that my job?"

Her smile lit up her whole face, and Balto couldn't have looked away even if he'd wanted to. Only fifteen years old, and she was already a real beauty. She'd be breaking hearts left and right in a couple of years. He'd noticed how several of their younger colleagues would let their eyes linger when she passed them.

"It got pretty rough out there, didn't it?" She was still hesitant, still uncertain.

"It did," Balto said. "You handled yourself well, though."

He pushed himself up on his elbows as Cissnei padded up to the bed. He couldn't help but notice that her towel was very short. As she sat down on the bed beside him, it barely covered the full curve of her ass.

"Thank you," she said softly. "I'm so relieved you think that."

"Well, it's the truth," he said, doing his best to keep his eyes on her lovely face. "If you want to go over it in detail, I'm afraid it'll have to wait until morning. It's been a long day."

Cissnei turned toward him and lifted one leg onto the bed between them, giving him an eyeful of her firm, tanned thigh.

"I didn't come here for a tactical analysis."

Balto swallowed thickly.

"Then why are you here?" he rasped.

"I could have died today. You saved me. I want you to know how much that means to me."

She smiled and reached for him. Before Balto could even guess what she was planning, she'd slipped her hand in under his towel. He drew in a startled breath as her fingers brushed against his cock.

"What are you doing?" His question came a couple of seconds too late. The shock, he told himself.

She'd taken him in her hand, squeezing gently, and caressed him with her thumb, just beneath the tip of his cock.

"I would have thought it's obvious?" she purred with a confidence that took him by surprise.

Every roll of her thumb spiked pleasure through his shaft, so intense that it spread down his thighs in heady waves. How long had it been since a woman had touched him like this, much less one as lovely as Cissnei?

"But... you can't."

"Yet you haven't tried to stop me."

He hadn't. He may have protested, but by Ramuh, he hadn't moved a single muscle to stop her. He hadn't even pulled away. He'd let his body respond; had let his dick grow hard enough in her hand that she could wrap her fingers around it and pump up and down.

"I'm your mentor." His breathing was heavy now, flowing in time with her stroking fist. "It's against the rules."

Cissnei's laughter tinkled like the sweetest melody, and she bent down and pressed her soft little mouth to his.

"We break rules all the time," she murmured against his lips.

"Not the Turk rules." Still he tried, but his attempt was so weak.

She tugged at the edge of her towel with her other hand and let it fall. Stunned, Balto let his gaze trace the curves of her waist and her round breasts, torn up by the urge to follow her pale tan lines with his tongue instead of his eyes.

"I don't see any other Turks here. No one else will know," she whispered, and kissed him again.

And Balto, gods help him, kissed her back.

He let her push him back against the mattress. He let her unwrap the towel around his waist and lay him bare. He let her straddle him... and he just watched, mesmerized, as she slid his rock-hard cock inside her.

Sweet Shiva, she felt so hot and tight and _amazing_ – and Balto felt a terrible guilt well up in him. It wasn't just against the rules. It was plain wrong. She was fifteen. He was nearly twice that.

She lifted her hips and sank back down, and he groaned out loud as his cock plunged deeper into her beautiful body.

Cissnei wasn't like other fifteen-year-olds, though. She'd been training to become a Turk for years. She'd killed a man at thirteen. At fourteen, she could pass for anything between ten or eighteen, depending on what they needed from her. She'd been under his supervision for six months, and in that time he'd seen her lie, deceive and maim on orders. She'd never hesitated. She hadn't even blinked.

No, Cissnei was a Turk. A Turk with long supple legs, with a waist so slim he could almost encircle it completely with his hands – and with a tight little pussy that swallowed up his cock with such greed that his hips were twitching in instinctive need to meet her. She bounced on his dick with youthful vigor, squeezing her perky breasts in her hands. Her eyes were almost closed, her parted lips curved in a small smile as she puffed out shallow breaths in time with her rhythm.

It wasn't right, Balto knew that – but it no longer felt quite so wrong. She was clearly enjoying herself, after all.

He was already inside her. He was already damned. May as well enjoy the ride.

Balto grabbed her ass with both hands. He pulled her down every time he bucked his hips up to meet her, and sank his cock as deep into her sweet wet heat as it would go. He moaned and panted and fucked her with abandon, until he filled her fifteen-year-old body with his seed.

* * *

 

Before drifting off to sleep, Balto had told himself it was a one-time mistake. A misstep not to be repeated, a lapse in judgment caused by the rush of adrenaline and exhaustion.

Yet when morning came, he found himself pounding into Cissnei from behind.

He'd woken up when she climbed into his bed, wearing absolutely nothing. He hadn't stopped her when she took his hardening cock in her mouth. When she'd kneeled at the edge of the bed and raised her sweet round ass in the air, he hadn't walked away.

As Balto pumped another load into her teenage pussy, he found himself fresh out of excuses.

He tried to rectify his weakness, once he'd pulled on his pants and recovered some semblance of his dignity. He turned toward Cissnei, who was lying on her front on his bed, swaying her ankles in the air, her chin resting in her hand as she watched him get dressed. Balto made sure to look only at her face.

"This can never happen again," he said, using the tone of voice he normally reserved for his commands.

Cissnei's legs stopped swaying.

"I thought you enjoyed it," she whispered.

"Please, don't get me wrong. It was... _very_ enjoyable, but once we leave this room, it never happened."

She just stared. The hurt in her beautiful brown eyes tore at him.

"You understand, don't you?" he pleaded. "If Veld finds out about this, it could end badly for both of us."

As he watched her, her expression changed at last... but not toward the understanding he was expecting.

"Oh, I don't think so."

Her voice had gone as cold as her smile. Startled, Balto shrank back.

"What?"

"If Veld finds out about this," she purred, "it'll end badly for _you_."

"What is this?" he whispered.

Cissnei sat up on the bed and leaned back on her hands, unbothered by the way her bare breasts jutted out in full view.

"Let me give you a hint. I have it all on video. Both times."

As Balto's mind struggled to process what she was saying, his training took over. He scanned the walls, the fixtures, the furniture; searching for spots he might have picked for a hidden camera.

"Don't bother looking for it," Cissnei said. "The data has already been transmitted to a secure location."

Balto gritted his teeth.

"Blackmail."

She smiled. "Bingo."

He was the one staring in silence now, seeing something very different from the sweet girl who had seduced him the night before. She'd planned it all, right from the start. She'd _played_ him.

"What do you want?"

Cissnei climbed off the bed and stretched languidly before she replied. Balto didn't look at her body, not anymore.

"You will back me up at the office when I need it," she said. "You will lie for me. If I come to you with a name, you will take care of it. No questions asked." She sauntered up to him as she listed off her demands, until she breached his personal space. "And if I'm feeling lonely..." She smiled and trailed a fingertip down his bare chest.

He couldn't find his voice. Even if he had, he wouldn't have known what to say.

"It's not just Veld you have to worry about, you know," Cissnei cooed. "What would Maur say if he heard you took advantage of his favorite trainee? What about Judet, or Freyra?"

Balto felt his face grow colder and colder as she named the few among the Turks he considered his friends.

"What's wrong with you?" he breathed.

"What's wrong with me?" She tilted her head, feigning surprise. "Why would you say that? You should be proud."

" _Proud?_ "

Cissnei smiled sweetly.

"I'm only doing what you and Tseng and Veld have taught me. I'm the Turk you've made of me."

A sick feeling settled in the pit of Balto's stomach, because he knew that it was true.


	3. Moth to a Flame

Reno forced himself to stand straight as he faced his irate boss. He'd holed up in his apartment for a day, too drunk out of his skull to care about missed shifts, until he ran out of booze. When he'd woken up with a splitting headache, he'd found half a dozen messages waiting on his PHS. For a few brief seconds, he'd actually thought someone might be worried about him.

The alcohol must have drowned too many brain cells. The messages were from Tseng, of course. A very angry Tseng, chewing him out for skipping a day of work.

Reno had to come back. He couldn't lose his job.

"What were you thinking?" Tseng barked.

He glowered at Reno behind his desk, his suit as smooth as his hair, pulled into a stubby ponytail. Just looking at him was enough to make Reno feel like the shabby slum kid that he was, every time.

That morning, though, he felt like a stain on the man's shoe.

"Sorry, boss. Must've been something I ate."

Reno stared at a point up and to the right of Tseng's head, but in the outer rim of his vision he could see those dark eyes bore into his face.

"Get someone to relieve you next time. Abandoning your post is unacceptable."

Reno wondered if Tseng had checked the security footage and seen him stagger into the bathroom. Probably, since he'd only threatened Reno with docked pay instead of firing. Tseng must have deemed it proof for Reno's excuse.

How could those eyes be so sharp, yet see so damn little?

"Got it. Won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't." Tseng appraised him with another long stare. "I'll let you off with a warning this time," he finally said.

Reno should have been relieved. Pleased, perhaps. Instead he didn't feel much of anything at all.

"Thanks, boss."

"Thank Rufus Shinra. He's the one who spoke on your behalf."

Cold sweat broke out all over Reno's body.

"He requested that you accompany him on business today. Follow the usual security protocol. Report to his office before ten."

One of the Turks' finest, yet so fucking blind.

Reno couldn't make himself speak, so he just nodded instead.

* * *

 

Reno forced himself to ride up to Rufus Shinra's floor. It took every ounce of his willpower to step out of the elevator. Without his Turk training, he would never have made it to that fucking office. Reno stared at the door for nearly a minute, wiping his clammy palms on his pants. He raised his hand, closed his eyes, and knocked.

"Yes?"

Just hearing that voice sapped the strength from Reno's legs.

He had to go in, though. He _had_ to.

Reno watched himself grasp the handle, push the door open, step inside. He tore his gaze off the floor, but couldn't go any higher than the desk. He tried to look at the papers that were spread out on it, instead of the hand poking out of a white sleeve, holding a gilded pen.

"Reno of the Turks, reporting for duty." His thoughts had disappeared into the swirling black hole that raged in his mind. All he had to fall back on were textbook phrases.

"Yes, yes. Just wait over there until I'm ready."

Rufus didn't even look up from the papers on his desk. Reno swallowed hard and sank down on the chair closest to the door.

The day passed with barely a word from Rufus. Reno said no more than the absolute minimum, either. He stayed on his toes and out of Rufus's way, hovering in his vicinity like a ghost. By the day's final meeting, a spark of hope was glimmering. If the Shinra asshole was just going to act as if nothing had happened, Reno could live with that. He leaned against the wall behind the bastard, and watched everyone except Rufus fucking Shinra.

The meeting came to a close. The PR people trickled out of the meeting room, one by one, until the door clicked closed after the last.

Rufus made no move to leave.

Reno's mouth had gone dry. He wanted to run, but couldn't make himself move. If he did, some irrational part of him kept screaming, Rufus would notice him. Remember that he was there.

In slow motion, Rufus swiveled his chair around and settled back in his seat. The smile on his face drained the blood from Reno's.

"You know what to do."

* * *

 

The breakroom was empty. With a profound sense of relief, Reno headed straight for the coffeemaker. He'd rinsed out his mouth so many times in the bathroom, but the taste clung to his tongue like sweat stains to an old shirt.

Reno stopped in his tracks and squeezed his hands into fists, feeling bile rise to the back of his throat. He couldn't shut his eyes, because he'd only see that smug fucking face looking down at him. Instead he stared at the wall, digging his fingernails into his palms, until the queasiness passed.

He hadn't puked his guts out this time. Not yet, at any rate. He didn't know if that was better or worse.

He rushed over to the coffeemaker, on the countertop in the opposite corner of the room. No booze at HQ – none he had access to, at any rate – so the next best thing would have to do. Tide him over until he could cleanse his mouth with an entire fucking bottle of vodka.

After the first time, he'd tried to convince himself it was some sick nightmare his brain had cooked up in a drunken stupor. He'd tried to ignore the constant churning in his gut, to block out the memories. Tried to pretend it had never happened. For a little while, it had almost worked.

And then he'd had to sober up and go back to work. Back to blowing Rufus fucking Shinra.

This was his life now.

The door behind him opened, and Reno dropped the coffee filter he'd been squeezing to death. As he bent down to snatch it up, he cast a surreptitious glance over his shoulder – and nearly dropped the filter again.

"Hi, Reno," Cissnei greeted with a smile. "Bit of a long day for you, isn't it?"

"Could tell you the same thing." It almost sounded natural. Shame he'd had to gather his slack jaw off the floor to say it.

"Not unusual for me, on the days I'm assigned to the Ancient," she sighed, closing the door behind her. "All it takes is one missed train up from the slums."

Reno had heard of the Ancient, mentioned in the breakroom now and then by the Turks who kept an eye on her. He had no idea why people called her that, or why she was under surveillance. According to the whining of her bored watchers, she just sold flowers in the street.

Cissnei slipped out of her jacket. As she folded it over the back of one of the chairs around the break room table, Reno could faintly make out the straps of her bra under her white Turk shirt. He felt a flutter in his belly.

"Want a coffee? I was just going to make some for myself. Since, you know..." For a second he could taste that slimy bitterness in the back of his throat again and the pleasant jittering vanished, replaced by something heavy and cold beneath his ribs. He swallowed hard and forced his voice to remain steady. "Long day."

What the fuck did he think he was doing? _Now_ , of all times?

But even as Reno spat those questions at himself, he knew the answer. He just wanted to look at her face for a while; to watch her lips move as she spoke and admire the sheen of her softly coiling hair. To drown in those pretty brown eyes instead of in his misery.

"Sure," she said. "Coffee sounds great."

Cissnei smiled. A giddy sensation swirled through Reno and dampened the ache in his chest.

The coffee filter was ruined. He tried to pull a new one out of the box, but his shaking fingers were useless. Half a dozen filters sailed to the floor. He cursed and bent down to scoop them up with both hands.

Behind him, Cissnei giggled.

"Nervous?"

He laughed, and hoped she didn't hear how tense it was. "My hand just slipped. Been a long–"

"–day," she finished for him. "Yeah, so I've heard. A few times now."

His laugh definitely rang false this time. Thank fuck he had his back turned to her. He stayed that way, thanking the stars above for the excuse of prepping the coffeemaker.

She waited until the coffeemaker was burbling before she spoke again.

"I've seen the way you look at me."

Reno went still, his fingertips digging into the sides of the box of filters he was lifting back into the cupboard.

She wasn't the first one who'd caught him. Ruluf, a rookie like him, had poked fun at him a few weeks ago. _I like a pretty face_ , Reno had said with a shrug, playing it cool. _Hot body, too_ , Ruluf had replied. _Shame about everything else._ He'd laughed, and even though Reno would rather have planted his fist in the guy's face, he'd laughed along because that's what you were supposed to do when you were shooting the breeze with the guys.

As he slowly placed the box on the shelf, Cissnei came up right beside him. She leaned back against the counter, so close that their arms almost touched. She looked up at him and smiled.

"You can do more than just look, you know."

This was the point where he was supposed to flirt back. He was supposed to be all smiles and playful teasing.

She wasn't one of his marks or conquests, though. She was _Cissnei_. Smart, beautiful, deadly Cissnei who laughed like a spring breeze and smiled like the sun.

And he was some rotten slum kid who sucked cock for the privilege of pretending to be someone of consequence.

Feeling his brittle composure fail him, Reno looked away. Moments later, his heart jolted in his chest when he felt her hand on his. She clasped it, brought it toward her. He felt the smooth fabric of a Turk suit press into his palm, and beneath it, the bump of a zipper. Reno spun his head around and stared at his hand, which she held against the front of her pants. He looked up, caught her eye. She smiled, and slid his hand lower.

Reno's clever mouth utterly failed him. He couldn't even _breathe_ as she guided his hand in between her thighs. His heart was pounding madly in his chest, and he was hard before the heel of his palm nudged the bottom of her zipper. With a lusty sigh, Cissnei ground down on his hand.

"Show me what you can do," she whispered.

Tentatively, Reno pressed his fingertips against her, curled them. She gasped and closed her eyes. He couldn't tell exactly where he was stroking through her clothes, so he watched her beautiful face. He became bolder as her cheeks flushed pink and her lips parted with deeper breaths. His strokes grew firmer, and soon she was rolling her hips to meet his hand.

A thrill shot through Reno as she reached for her belt and began to undo her pants. The second she'd pulled down her zipper, he moved his hand, slipped it in under her panties. His fingers slid lower across soft smooth skin, until they found her slit. Reno's breath caught in his throat at the feel of her slick, slippery folds.

"You're so wet," he mumbled.

"Wet and ready to come," she purred. "Will you help me?"

"Anything you want, Ciss."

He'd fingered his fair share of girls in his time, but suddenly he felt anxious. He wanted to make it good for her; no, to make it _perfect_. She deserved no less. He gazed at her face as he caressed her in slow circles, eager for her cues.

"A little lower," she whispered. She placed her hand on top of his and nudged him through her pants. "Oh," she gasped. "Right there!"

Her shuddering breaths and soft moans were the most wonderful little sounds Reno had ever heard. He did his best to tease more out of her, to make her arch and tremble in his arms.

"I need your fingers in me," she panted.

He closed his eyes and held his breath as he sank two fingers into her. Her hole was even wetter, and so damn tight around his fingers. Reno bit his lip and tried not to imagine what it might be like to push something else inside her, because he was about two seconds from coming in his pants.

Cissnei still had a firm hold on his wrist and kept his hand pressed against her, riding his fingers as she ground her sweet spot against his palm. Reno stroked his fingers inside her, but otherwise he let her set the pace. He rubbed his cock against her hip, too, rutting against her like a horny dog; so fucking hard and aching for her. He nibbled on her ear and panted words of encouragement, until she threw her head back, her mouth open in a silent scream, and he felt her muscles pulse around his fingers in a rapid rhythm.

She collapsed against the countertop, against him. Reno wrapped an arm around her shoulders to hold her steady, to hold her _close_ , but it was less than a minute before she shrugged it off and pulled his hand out of her pants. A sinking feeling brought the fear that she would spit at him and kick him out now that she'd gotten what she wanted, just like–

Cissnei dropped her pants to the floor, and that pulled Reno's mind back from the brink. She stepped out of her loafers and her pants, hopped up to sit on the countertop. He just gaped her, until she hooked a finger into his belt and pulled him in between her thighs. He watched her unbuckle it with giddy disbelief, afraid to move in case that would wake him up from a wet dream.

Because that's what it had to be; just a dream. It couldn't be real. Beautiful, sexy Cissnei, who could have anyone she wanted – and she chose _him_?

But her hands felt so real as they undid his pants and tugged them down. The satin of her panties felt so _very_ real as he slid them down her legs, as did the warmth of her thighs around his hips, and oh Gaia, the sopping wet heat around his throbbing cock as he sank into her; the rapture of it nearly drove him out of his mind.

"You feel so good," he panted, and it wasn't at all enough to describe the joy that coursed through his body, but she giggled and wrapped her legs around his.

"You too," she said, her voice dancing with laughter. "Come on, then. Give it to me."

He drew back and slid in, and the delight of it hit him like a dozen firecrackers going off in his head. She clutched his shoulders, dug her fingers into him as she moaned for him to fuck her harder, and that was exactly what he did, because Cissnei could ask for the moon, and he would give his goddamn _everything_ to bring it to her. He pumped his cock into her, harder and faster, egged on by her moans and soft cries. He tried to hold back on his own release, tried to give her as much of him as she wanted, but his pleasure spiked abruptly and shot out of him in a white-hot flash of bliss.

He floated back to reality to find himself slumped over her like a sack of flour, squeezing her ass with both hands. He let go and straightened up, feeling his face flush hot.

"Sorry," he mumbled, with an awkward chuckle. "Didn't mean for it to be over that quick. I can go again, though, if you give me a minute–"

Cissnei pressed two fingers to his lips, then clasped the back of his neck and pulled him back down. Reno's heart made an extra leap.

"Want to know why I'm so wet?" she whispered in his ear. "Why I'm really here so late?"

"Why?" His eyes were closed, his breath coming in short puffs.

"Can you keep a secret?"

"Of course I can, Ciss." Reno held his breath, waiting. _Whatever you want, Ciss. You can count on me, Ciss._

"Because I let Balto come inside me half an hour ago."

The air whooshed from his lungs as he jerked back and stared at her. Cissnei was smiling, but it wasn't the smile he'd seen on her before.

"I was just going to lead you on," she said breezily. "Use you to get off, nothing else. But then I realized... you're really into me, aren't you?" Her laughter rang cold and sharp. "Or what you'd want me to be, at any rate."

Reno stumbled backwards until the table smacked into the back of his thighs. He couldn't think. He couldn't move, he couldn't _breathe_. He just stood there and gaped as she hopped down and picked up her clothes.

"But... why?" he whispered.

Cissnei looked up, smiling, as she buckled her belt.

"Because I like a pretty face and a hot body." Her smile vanished. "Shame about everything else," she spat.

She may as well have dunked him in a bucket of ice water.

"I-I didn't say that," he stammered. "That was Ruluf, not me!"

"Fucking _Ruluf_ ," she scoffed. "Did you know he tried to get me to blow him? Said he just wanted to 'help me'. It'd be good for my 'undercover training', you see. Called me a bitch when I told him to get lost." She snatched up her jacket and yanked it on. "You, him, you're all the same. All you want is a smiling doll with a pretty face and a hot body to use."

"That's not true!"

"Save it for someone who cares," she hissed. "This doll is tired of smiling."

She headed for the door. Reno couldn't watch her anymore; he dropped his gaze. His cock was still hanging out, looking just as shriveled up as he felt on the inside, and was still smeared with cum – his and... _Balto's_. Reno's stomach turned. His face burned hot as he pulled down the hem of his shirt in an urgent need to cover himself.

"Don't do anything stupid," Cissnei called from the door, "like mention any of this to your slum scum friends. Even if you're dumb enough to think you can take me, just remember that Balto is a far better Turk than you'll ever be. You'll be dead before you even realize he's after you."

Startled, Reno looked up. She was watching him. One corner of her mouth rose.

"He's a far better fuck, too. I really thought you'd last longer."

Cissnei smiled like the sun, and scorched Reno's insides to ashes.


	4. The Shadows Grow Darker

"I need to take this call," Judet murmured in Reno's ear. "Watch him."

He watched her stride to the door. Half of her was obscured by her long hair – and it was very long indeed, considering she was an inch taller than Reno. He had the uncomfortable suspicion that her shoulders were broader than his, too, and he knew first-hand that she could wipe the floor with him in hand-to-hand combat.  When the door to the interrogation room clanged shut behind her, he instantly felt less scrawny and gawky.

He couldn't shake the weight that pressed down on his chest, though. The one that served as a constant reminder of how ugly and pathetic he was. It whispered in the back of his head, too, in a voice that sounded an awful lot like Cissnei's. It wouldn't shut up – except for the hour or so that he'd managed to drown it in alcohol the night before. He was paying for it now, with a throbbing head and a body covered in cold sweat.

The man they had cuffed to a chair in the middle of the room was sneering at Reno.

"Your sweetheart has you on a chain, huh? You're her little bitch?"

Reno grabbed hold of the man's shoulder and shoved him back. His fist landed in the guy's gut with a satisfying, meaty thud.

"Either say something useful or keep your mouth shut. I ain't here for your bullshit," Reno said as the man doubled over with a pained grunt.

Keeping his voice flat and disinterested took more effort by the minute. Reno wondered how Judet managed to stay so calm. She'd been at this guy for half an hour without the slightest emotional reaction, despite his never-ending taunts and insults. A mind game, she'd called it in her little speech before they got started. Her methods took time, Tseng had said as he assigned Reno to be her apprentice for the day, but the reliability of her results spoke for themselves.

She probably wouldn't be happy if she realized Reno had socked this guy.

"Ohhh, was that a little love tap?" The bound man sucked in a shaky breath, only to let it out as mocking laughter. "Trying to get me going, are ya?"

Reno gritted his teeth and looked at the door. Where the fuck was Judet? How could one call take this long?

"You know what?" the guy drawled. "You're pretty enough for a guy. Prettier than her, for sure. If you ask nicely, I'll let you suck my cock."

Reno spun around. He'd rammed two right hooks into the bastard's gut before his brain caught up with what he was doing. Reno shot up, mentally cursing himself as he flexed his smarting fingers. He had to get a fucking grip, right _now_.

The man coughed and sputtered, but when he looked up he was grinning.

"That all you got? Would've thought a Turk would last longer."

The words were close. The scorn was exactly the same.

 _I really thought you'd last longer_.

A red hot rage surged through Reno and he punched that fucking sneer right off the guy's face. And then he punched him again, and again, and _again_.

"Hey. Hey!"

A hand grabbed his arm just as he raised it for another strike. Reno rounded on the intruder, ready to smack them down too. Judet's grim stare jolted him back to his senses.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she hissed. "This was supposed to be an interrogation! _My_ interrogation!"

He was about to spit out something rude, but happened to glance at their prisoner. The man's face was a pulpy mess. Reno looked down and gave a start. His mag rod was in his hand, extended and bloodied.

Judet shoved his hand down. Blood spattered across the floor from the tip of his mag rod.

"Take a good look at him," she growled. "You'll wish you could take his place once Veld hears about this."

In the red mush on the side of the guy's head, all smeared in with his dark hair, Reno saw jagged white fragments. His hangover caught up with him and he made a mad dash for the trash bin in the corner.

* * *

 

Later that same day Reno had stood in Veld's office, his back stiff as a board, the side of his face still stinging from Veld's backhand. _First official warning_ , the chief had barked. _Two weeks' docked pay. Mandatory psych eval. A month of desk duty._

Reno could have lived with that. He could have lived on noodles and suffered desk duty, as long as it meant no bodyguard gigs.

And then Rufus fucking Shinra had intervened, "on Reno's behalf", vouching for his character. Corrective action was of course necessary, the Shinra bastard had said in his smarmiest tone of voice, but he wished to show his trust in Reno's abilities. He'd requested Reno as his personal Turk for all his security needs during this time.

And Veld, fucking _Veld_ , had allowed it.

It had been a week already. A week of enduring the asshole's smug fucking face during business trips and meetings, knowing that his cock would be slamming into the back of Reno's throat as soon as they ended up alone for ten minutes. Reno didn't know how much more of this he could take. He didn't know how to make it stop.

He already had two strikes on his record. One for killing a suspect in Turk custody before he could squeal on his buddies. Two for threatening the shrink Veld had sent him to. With three he'd be out. No second chances, no mercy. He'd be kicked out and tossed into the slums.

And that was why he was once again kneeling in front of Rufus Shinra with his mouth full of cock.

Something was off, though. Rufus was barely hard enough for a blowjob, even though Reno had been at it for so long that his jaw was aching. What the fuck was the asshole's problem now? Reno just wanted to get this over with so he could make a beeline for the nearest bar.

"Stop."

Reno sat back on his heels and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He didn't look up. He never looked directly at the son of a bitch if he could avoid it.

Several seconds passed, but neither of them moved. Reno's skin was crawling, as though covered by hundreds of ants. What the hell was this?

Rufus's suit rustled softly as he leaned toward his desk. A drawer slid open. A few seconds later Rufus shoved a white tube in front of Reno's face.

"Drop your pants and get yourself ready," Rufus ordered.

Reno stared at the tube in front of him. _Personal Lubricant_ , it said in dark blue letters. _Clear. Non-greasy._

"What?" he blurted out.

"You heard me." Rufus wiggled the tubed impatiently. "Get your ass lubed up."

Reno jumped to his feet and backed away, his face burning hot.

"No! No fucking way!"

"I won't ask again."

"No! I'll suck your fucking dick if I have to, but I ain't doing this!"

A sudden fury flashed in Rufus's eyes.

"Fine, have it your way," he spat. "I guess you slum sluts are used to taking it up the ass all the time."

He reached for Reno's hair, who ducked out of his reach.

"Go to hell, you sick fuck!"

"Are you that eager to lose your job?"

Rufus threat sliced through the air, cold and sharp like a blade. Reno stopped in his tracks, halfway to the door.

"It'll be easier than ever. I hear Veld is still very displeased by your failures."

He seethed with the desire to tell the little Shinra shit to go fuck himself. The hatred coursed through his veins like molten lava, making his skin feel too hot and tight. What would happen if he just killed this son of a bitch right now? How long would he have before the Turks hunted him down? Would they kill him on sight?

No, the President wouldn't be satisfied by that. He'd want revenge. He'd have the Turks drag it out for days. They might not even kill him. Maybe they'd just dump him on the doorstep of his old gang once he was too weak to put up a fight.

Reno's head fell forward in defeat.

"Get back here. Stand by the desk."

He shuffled back across the room, like a dog obeying its master. Like the good little Shinra bitch that he was.

"Drop your pants."

Rufus was practically purring. Out of the corner of his eye Reno could see the guy's dick, jutting out of his fly harder than ever. Fucking sicko.

Reno's hands went to his belt. They unbuckled it, popped the button, zipped down his pants. Not him. His hands were the ones that shoved his pants down, along with his underwear. He was just watching them do it all.

"Hands on the desk."

His hands were the ones who obeyed and flattened themselves against the polished wood. So why was he the one who felt like puking his guts out?

Because he was bent over the Shinra brat's desk with his bare ass in the air, that was why. The bastard hadn't even touched him, yet the shame was already raking Reno's chest like claws.

"Ask for it."

The claws dug in between Reno's ribs and curled.

"Are you fucking serious?" he managed to grit out.

"I've got my PHS right here. Would you rather listen to me make that call?"

Reno squeezed his eyes shut. All he had left of his pride were tatters, but Rufus wouldn't even let him keep that much, would he?

"Would you rather _beg_ for it?" Rufus taunted.

Reno's eyelids burned with humiliation as the last shreds of his self-respect scattered and vanished.

"Fuck me," he whispered.

Rufus chuckled as he came up behind Reno and pushed up his shirt and jacket. Reno flinched as a cold liquid hit his lower back and oozed down between his cheeks.

"Don't you dare move."

Reno felt a finger slide down, following the liquid. He bit down on his lip, swallowing a whimper as his felt Rufus's fingertip rub over his asshole, spread the lube around it. Nobody had ever touched him like this.

No wonder Cissnei thought he was lower than dirt. He was fucking _pathetic_. His stupid arms were shaking, for fuck's sake. It was ridiculous. He'd been stabbed and punched, had broken his bones. How much worse could this be?

Yet even as Reno tried to tell himself that, he knew that it wasn't the prospect of pain that twisted his stomach inside out. The blowjobs he'd been able to rationalize away as just an unpleasant part of the job, like the Turk equivalent of cleaning the toilets. This, though... There was no way he could think of this as anything other than rape. He was going to get raped by his boss.

Just thinking about it sounded all wrong in his head. Men didn't get raped. Not real men. Real men didn't just stand there with their asses hanging out, waiting for their boss _to fucking rape–_

A blunt pressure against Reno's asshole cut right through his train of thought. Before he could properly process what was happening, Rufus thrust forward hard enough to break through Reno's tight ring of muscle. A bright, searing agony flared through Reno's abdomen and shot up his spine, and tore out of his throat in a hoarse scream.

Rufus smacked his arm across Reno's back and shoved him flat against the desk, knocking the air out of his lungs.

"Shut the fuck up," Rufus growled, "or I'll fucking fire you when I'm done."

He pulled out an inch only to slam back in, again and again, forcing his cock deeper into Reno's ass each time. Forget broken bones, forget fucking stab wounds. Reno had never experienced pain like this. Every brutal thrust stabbed up his spine like a red-hot poker. He bit down on his arm, trying to keep the screams inside, but he couldn't stop the tears that streamed from his eyes and soaked into the sleeve of his jacket.

Worse yet, a pressure was building in Reno's groin, hot and insistent as it spread to his cock, growing more unbearable each time Rufus rammed in. Reno was going to fucking _burst_ any second, if the fucker on top of him didn't tear him in half first.

"Stop!" he wailed. "Just fucking _stop_!"

"I told you to shut up," Rufus snarled in his ear.

Reno felt Rufus reach around and grab something by his throat. He yanked his hand back, and a tight pressure clamped down on Reno's neck, dragging his head up from the desk. He gasped and scratched at his throat, but his tie was pulled too tight; so tight that his whole back curved up backwards. By his ear, Rufus was huffing like a steam train.

"Ru... fus..." Reno tried to plead, but that was all he could wheeze out.

Rufus's hold on the tie tightened and he picked up his speed, hammering Reno's burning hole with twice the savagery. Reno's face twisted in an agonized scream, but no sound would come out; he had no air left in his lungs, and none could trickle through the stranglehold on his neck.

He wouldn't survive this, Reno realized. Rufus was going to fucking rape him to death.

Panicked, Reno bucked against the desk and clawed at the noose around his neck, but the lack of air had made him too weak. The darkness just closed in on him quicker. None of the pain faded, none of the fear; they only grew stronger in his final moments, racking his dying, spasming body until the abyss swallowed him whole.

* * *

 

Reno came to slowly. He wallowed in a few seconds of blissful, confused ignorance... and then it all slammed into him at once, flinging him back to reality.

His legs were bare, his pants in a heap around his ankles. His whole body shivered with a cold that seemed entrenched in his bones. His ass was on fucking _fire_ , though; spiking pain through his lower body in time with his pulse. Something wet oozed out of it and down his thighs.

Reno couldn't stop the sob that tore from his aching chest. He tried to swallow the next one down, and gasped as a sharp pain pulsed through his bruised windpipe. As he moved his hand, reaching for his throat, he nudged something next to him on the desk. Reno forced his eyes open to look.

It was his tie, piled up in a loose spiral.

With a snarl that sounded more like another sob, Reno swiped it off the desk. Crippling agony flared through his body, but that wasn't the reason he drew a sharp breath and froze. He'd heard a soft snort behind him.

Reno got one elbow under himself, lifted his head. Wincing, he twisted his ravaged body enough to look over his shoulder.

Rufus sat in his chair, his hair combed back and his clothes in place. With a horrible sinking feeling, Reno realized the twisted fucker had been watching the whole time.

A sneer curled Rufus's lip.

"Get out."


	5. The Abyss Stares Back

Reno stumbled over the threshold to the breakroom, his face screwed up tight from the pain that pulsed through his lower body with every step. He couldn't say how he'd managed to drag himself to the Turk offices, especially as he'd opted for the stairs instead of risking being seen in the elevators. He didn't care. The only thing on his mind was the box of first aid materials the Turks kept stashed in the breakroom.

It hurt to stretch his body in order to reach the right shelf. It hurt even more to drag the sturdy plastic box off the shelf. It hit the countertop below with a thud, along with the jingle of glass and the rustle of plastic foil.

Reno's target sat right at the top of the box. A sleek container in gunmetal gray, about one inch wide and three inches long. Inside was a foam insert with three round depressions, though only one was filled. With a sob of relief, Reno plucked the little green orb from its holder. He closed his eyes and tried to center his thoughts. He could sense the magic, hovering right there at the edges of his mind, but every time he tried to reach out to it, it wafted out of his grasp like a wisp of smoke.

The Restore materia slipped through his shaking fingers. It hit the floor with a clear _ping_ and rolled off somewhere. Reno wanted to scream, but his raw throat couldn't handle so much as a whisper. Instead he felt his eyes brim over. He yanked the first-aid box closer as hot tears rolled down his cheeks and splashed onto the countertop. His nerves were too shot for the simplest first-level materia. He was too weak to even go crawling after the fucking thing. How _pathetic_ could he get?

His fingers hit a glass vial, hidden under several packs of gauze, and he pulled it out to see the turquoise tint of a healing potion. He uncorked it with unsteady hands and poured the liquid down his throat. He was too much of a mess to care how much it hurt to swallow. He didn't even notice the prickling discomfort brought on by accelerated healing, but as the physical pain abated, the hollow ache in his chest grew worse.

What kind of a fucking wimp was he, to just stand there and take it? He was supposed to be a _Turk_ , for fuck's sake! Would a real Turk let someone get away with what Rufus had done to him? Would a real Turk _ask for it_?

A painful lump formed in Reno's throat as a memory came back to him. It was the worst one of them all, the one he desperately wanted to purge from his mind. Just before everything had gone dark, right at the worst moment of it all... his cock had gone hard.

Reno squeezed his eyes shut, hid them his trembling hand. What the fuck was wrong with him?

He didn't realize he had company until he heard a voice right behind him.

"Long day again?"

Oh, fuck no. Not her, not _now_!

Before he could come up with something, _anything_ , Cissnei had come up beside him. She looked over the open first aid box, glanced at the empty vial in his hand.

"What's the emergency?"

Reno turned his back to her with the excuse of dropping the vial in the trash.

"Nothing," he spat.

"Aw, bad day?"

His throat felt too tight, like it was being squeezed by that fucking tie. His shoulders began to shake.

"Maybe a quickie will cheer you up." Cissnei giggled as she ran a finger down his arm. "I just came back from a... 'mentoring session' with Balto, you see. You seemed to enjoy his sloppy seconds last time."

Reno spun around, throwing off her arm.

"Get away from me!"

He put several strides between them and slapped his hands down on the breakroom table. The next second he staggered back and pressed his palms against his eyes, reeling from the flashback of him bent over the desk in Rufus Shinra's office.

"Whoa," Cissnei said behind him. "What's up with you?"

He turned around to glare at her; not because he wanted to face her, but because he couldn't stand having someone behind his back.

"Leave me the fuck alone!" Just as he roared the last word, his voice broke. "Just get out!" he yelled, his face burning with humiliation.

Her laughter rang cruel in his ears.

"What's the matter? Worried you won't measure up?" she cooed as she came up to him. "No need to worry about that. We both already know that you don't."

It might have been her mocking smile. It might have been the scorn in her voice, identical to what Rufus Shinra had spat at him. Whatever it was, it fanned his smoldering fury into a blaze. As she walked past him on the way to the door, Reno lunged.

Cissnei wasn't expecting it, that much was clear from how easily he was able to reach around her waist and trap one of her arms by her side. He coiled his other arm around her throat and squeezed, cutting off the blood flow to her brain. She gasped and threw her free hand up, scratching at his face as she tried to go for his eyes.

It was over in seconds, but in those seconds her ass had pressed into his groin and rubbed against him as she struggled. His confused, keyed-up body had been quick to respond. His cock throbbed hot and hard, and in a flash of vicious, rage-fueled clarity, Reno knew just how to make her pay.

He dropped her lifeless body onto the table and kept one of her arms twisted up between her shoulder blades as he went for her belt. Cissnei groaned softly and moved a little as he undid her trousers, but it wasn't until he tore them down that she came to.

"What the hell are you doing?" she shrieked, clawing at the table under her with her free hand.

"Maybe I just don't want the hole that's been passed around half of Shinra," Reno growled and yanked down her panties.

"No! Don't you fucking dare!"

She threw her whole weight to the side and nearly tore her wrist free. He grabbed her with both hands and shoved her down flat against the table. He renewed his hold on her wrist, then shoved her elbow up. He could feel something snap, and with a pained gasp she collapsed against the table.

Reno wasted no time unzipping his pants and pulling out his cock. The moment he'd lined it up against the little pucker above her pussy, he thrust forward.

Cissnei yelped and went stiff as a board, even though he'd only managed to squeeze the tip of his cock into her asshole. When he tried again she came back to life; she pushed at the table under them and bucked wildly, spitting curses at him. He still couldn't get deeper in; she was too fucking tight, and squirmed too much. Gritting his teeth, he grabbed her hair and smacked her face straight into the table. Cissnei slumped down like a ragdoll. Before she could recover, he'd adjusted his footing and whipped his hips forward with enough force to ram his dick through her tiny sphincter and halfway into her ass.

Cissnei _screamed_. Her shrill cry, so full of agony and fear, pierced through the darkness that engulfed him. Reno froze, jolted out of his mindless rage, and finally realized what he was doing. He yanked his hands off her as though he'd been burned. He pulled out, stumbled back. A wave of nausea crashed over him when he saw the blood on his wilting cock.

"Fuck... I-I didn't... Oh, _fuck_..."

Cissnei had sunk to the floor and curled up into a ball. Her whole body was shaking. On the white tile floor beneath her, he saw a thin red smear.

The nausea rolled over him again. With a hand pressed tightly over his mouth, Reno turned on his heel and fled.

* * *

 

Once again, Reno found himself in Tseng's office. This time, though, it was of his own volition.

He'd expected to be hauled off to an interrogation room the moment he set foot inside HQ. At the very least he'd expected an angry mob of coworkers waiting for him at the Turk offices. Instead people had greeted him like any other day. As though nothing had happened.

It didn't make him feel better. If anything, it made the twisted knot in his chest harder to bear.

"Boss?"

Tseng looked up from the papers on his desk and frowned.

"Where's your tie?"

Reno swallowed several times as he stared down at his shoes. He'd shoved his spare tie all the way down to the bottom of his trash bin. He hadn't even buttoned his shirt all the way up. Just the thought of it made his throat close up.

"I need some time off." His voice didn't come out at all as he wanted. It was barely a whisper. He swallowed again. "Please."

The silence was unbearable, but Reno didn't look up. The thought of looking Tseng in the eye was even worse.

"Sit down."

Reno sank into the chair in front of Tseng's desk. His shoulders slumped, held up only by the elbows on his thighs. Between his knees, his hands were tightly clamped together.

"What is this about?" Tseng asked. Not unkindly, which Reno supposed was as close as his boss came to concern.

"I just... have to get out of the office for a bit," he mumbled.

Again Tseng was silent a while. Reno was really beginning to hate it. Silence outside of his head meant he had to listen to the memories inside it.

"This is no time for vacations," Tseng said at last. "With most of us dealing with the SOLDIER desertions, I need every Turk on hand."

Reno closed his eyes and bowed his head.

"However," Tseng added, "one of our surveillance operations below the plate is one Turk short. The target is codenamed the Ancient."

The surprise made Reno forget himself and look up.

"The Ancient? But that's–" The name Cissnei paralyzed his tongue. "...I thought that job had a full roster."

"Cissnei requested reassignment this morning. I sent her to Costa del Sol to scout out potential SOLDIER recruits. She's flying out tonight."

Reno just stared dumbly. Cissnei was... leaving?

Tseng was appraising him again.

"She didn't tell me her reasons. I don't suppose you would know anything about it?"

Oh, fuck. Reno couldn't look away, not now. He shrugged, trying his best to be carefree about it.

"Sorry, boss. Haven't seen her for a while."

Tseng lowered his chin and narrowed his eyes. Reno's hands felt clammy, but he forced them to stay clasped together between his knees.

"I don't need to know what happened between you two," Tseng finally said. "All I want to know is this: will it affect your work?"

And now his boss had caught Reno lying to his face. He wished he could sink through the floor and vanish forever.

Though vanish he would, if Tseng found him guilty of a third strike. What would be the final straw? An honest answer to Tseng's question?

"No," Reno rasped. He would just have to make it true. Somehow.

After one final hard stare, Tseng nodded.

"Take today off. Clear your head. Check in tomorrow morning and we'll go over the details."


	6. Revenge, Swiftly Served

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're six chapters in already and the story is nowhere near done. This thing is getting out of hand. Please send help.

Balto ambled through the Wall Market crowd. The noise, the smells, the bright neon lights – everything was an assault on his senses. A taste of the chaotic life below the Midgar plate might have held a certain appeal had he been in a different frame of mind, but at that moment, Balto focused solely on his target.

The other man was just a few dozen feet ahead. Balto had been on his tail since they boarded the train down to the slums. This part of the job wasn't hard; black suits were few and far between below the plate, and that head of flame-red hair only made it easier. No, it was the inevitable end to his task that almost made Balto wish his target would elude him.

Two days ago Cissnei had given him a name. No questions asked, that was the deal, but when he recognized the target as one of their own, he had to ask. Cissnei had told him nothing, only repeated her threats. Balto had spent a day considering his options, only to conclude that all of them were terrible. In the end he'd convinced himself he didn't really have a choice at all.

And so he found himself stalking a rookie Turk in the Midgar slums. He'd left his katana behind. The blade was too memorable for clandestine work below the plate. He'd left his Turk suit at home for the same reason. The baggy shirt and cotton pants he wore could have belonged to a below-plate craftsman or shopkeeper; clean and whole, but worn and patched up. The people he passed didn't give him a second glance.

It hadn't been hard to find out where the rookie lived, which car he drove, where he parked it. It had been more difficult to come up with an accident that wouldn't make anyone look too closely... until Balto had heard Reno got reassigned to the Ancient. In the slums, anything could happen.

He'd still needed to think it through. No matter how desperate people were down below, most of them knew to steer clear of the dark Shinra suits. So, Balto had dug a bit deeper. When he'd read in Reno's file that the rookie's former gang didn't take kindly to deserters, a plan had begun to take shape. It was why he carried a tire iron tucked up his sleeve; the weapon of choice for many of the gang's members.

Balto had also made discreet inquiries among the Turks. Most of them thought Reno was a bit brash and reckless, but that was nothing unusual among new, eager recruits. Judet was spitting mad at the kid, though, for losing control in one of her interrogations. Was that what this was about? Was Cissnei involved with this guy and he'd lost his temper with her in some lovers' spat? Was she sleeping with him, too? Something dark twisted in Balto's gut.

Reno ducked into an alley. As he made his way east toward Sector 5, the hubbub of Wall Market faded away and the streets became emptier. It made following him trickier, especially as the kid began looking over his shoulder more often, but it was nothing Balto couldn't handle.

Reno slunk into a large building. Glassless windows gaped in rusty walls of corrugated iron. The roof was long gone and the ground covered in years' worth of slum muck, which was probably why it had remained empty. Balto wouldn't get a better shot than this. He picked up his pace, hugging the shadowy wall, and slid the tire iron out of his sleeve.

Halfway through the building, he struck. It should have been a clean blow straight to the head, but the rookie's reflexes were better than Balto had given him credit for. Reno jerked aside at the last second and threw up his arm in a wide arc. Balto ducked underneath and swung again as he shot up; it was a hasty blow, but it grazed Reno's wrist. He yelped and pulled his arm to his side, while the rod he'd been holding clattered to the ground. Balto spun around in a roundhouse kick and as his foot slammed into Reno's side, he heard a crunch and felt the ribs give way. The kid cried out and slumped down, smacking his head against the rocky ground.

Balto kicked Reno's rod away and dropped down on one knee. The rookie had been trying to crawl away, but as Balto swung his tire iron high above his head, Reno froze and stared up at him. Balto went still, too. His hand was trembling, his heart hammering in his chest – the adrenaline, he tried to tell himself... but he knew that wasn't the whole truth.

Had it been an enemy, their blood would already have spilled into the filthy ground. Balto didn't see an enemy, however. He saw a frightened teenage kid who was meant to be his comrade-in-arms.

"This isn't personal, you know. She got us both."

There was no wide-eyed shock or surprise on Reno's face. He already knew, Balto realized. Maybe Cissnei had played the kid like she'd played Balto. Maybe she'd sent him after Reno because he'd refused to do her bidding.

She had indeed made fools of them both – only the Turk lying on the ground was little more than a kid, bound to make mistakes on his way to adulthood. Balto should have known better a decade ago.

What had Cissnei made of him?

He'd had honor, once. He'd chosen to save the life of a friend at the cost of his own freedom, because it had been the right thing to do. Even after he'd been plucked out of prison by the Turks, he'd held on to the honor of his youth as the one thing that set him apart from the scum he was sent to defeat in the name of Shinra. He ground his teeth together as he watched Reno writhe on the ground. Once Balto would finish Cissnei's task, he wouldn't be able to pretend anymore. He would forever be scum like those he hunted down.

But what could he do? He couldn't erase his mistakes. Helping the kid now would only bring about Balto's own end. And as much as he was loath to admit it... the thought of prison had been so much easier to face in his intrepid youth when he hadn't known what it would entail.

As Balto stared at Reno's face, he noticed how white it was, glistening with cold sweat – and he realized there was a third option. There was little hope for a kid with broken ribs and a concussion in the slums, especially for a kid who had cut his old underplater ties. All Balto had to do... was nothing.

Balto rifled through Reno's pockets until he found the kid's PHS. One strike with the tire iron smashed it to smithereens against the ground. Reno lolled his head back and swore weakly, but didn't try anything else. He didn't even spit his curses directly at Balto.

As Balto towered over the kid's pale, shivering body, he hesitated. Reno might live for hours still. Maybe it would be a kindness to end his misery before the vermin got to him.

It didn't matter. Balto couldn't make himself take that final damning step. Delivering the killing blow would stain his honor forever.

Gritting his teeth, he turned away and fled into the shadows.

* * *

 

In a daze, Reno stared up at the plate that loomed over the slums. He was still alive. The agony that shot through his side with every breath was ample proof of that. How long that would last, he didn't know. His limbs felt too cold, his head too woozy, and fucking hell, his _ribs_.

Had that Balto fucker planned it this way? Had _Cissnei_? For a while there, Reno had thought Balto would show some fucking courtesy and finish him off quick. For a second, just as he was sure death would crash down on him before his next breath, Reno had felt... _relieved_.

That relief had disappeared along with that Gongagan asshole of a Turk, though. Reno closed his eyes and steeled himself. He hadn't joined the Turks to die in a slum gutter, for fuck's sake. After a few shallow breaths, he clamped his teeth together and rolled onto his good side.

He came to a few seconds later. Or was it minutes? It couldn't have been long; the dampness from the ground hadn't seeped into his clothes yet.

It took Reno minutes to crawl over to the nearest wall. A chunk of concrete, pierced through by torn rebar, lay next to it. It had likely fallen from the plate above at some point. Must have sucked for whoever had lived in here at the time, but now the twisted metal gave Reno the handholds he needed to get to his feet.

He stumbled a few steps toward the door he'd come through. His wrist stung like a son of a bitch and his head throbbed, but his ribs were the real problem. No matter how he walked or carried himself, the pain wouldn't ease up. Every breath was a struggle, every step a battle he could barely push through.

Wall Market was too far away. He'd never make it.

With a frustrated grunt, Reno sank down on the concrete slab. No PHS, no mag rod. All he could do was sit around and wait for death to creep up on him. What a way to go.

Not that he didn't have it coming. And hey, at least this way he would never have to see Rufus Shinra's fucking face ever again. That alone might just be worth a slow, lonely death in the slums. Reno snorted out loud – and squeezed his eyes shut with a hiss as a sharp pain stabbed through his chest.

A gasp made him look up. In the doorway on the other side of the building stood a little girl with a smudged face. She stared at him with startled eyes, on the brink of running off.

"Hey, kid," Reno called quickly. "Wanna earn twenty gil?" The girl remained near the door, but he could see the way her eyes lit up. "You know old Robey?" he rasped, desperately hoping his dry throat wouldn't set off a cough. "Owns a pharmacy in Wall Market."

The girl was gnawing on her bottom lip. She looked over her shoulder, then back at him.

"You mean the Doc?" she finally asked.

He wasn't sure why the old man insisted on calling himself that. No real doctor would be stuck in a dinky, rundown shop in Wall Market. Everyone knew that.

"Yeah. Doc Robey. I need you to buy something from him and bring it back to me." Gritting his teeth against the pain, Reno brought out his wallet and pulled out a twenty gil note. "See? This is yours when you get back."

The girl finally stepped inside and approached him with wary steps. Just as she came within reach, he tucked the twenty back in and took out two fifty-gil notes instead.

"This should be enough for a healing potion. Buy it, bring it here and you'll get your twenty gil."

The girl's eyes were round as saucers as she stared at the gil. They narrowed as she glanced at him. Reno could practically see every step of her thought process as she plotted to take the gil and run.

She looked about ten years old. Hopefully old enough to have heard scary stories about the boogeymen in dark suits. Hopefully young enough to believe them without question.

Reno grabbed the lapel of his suit and leveled the most frightening glare he could pull off at the kid.

"See this? This is a Turk suit. Know what that means?" The kid just stared at him with huge eyes, and Reno responded with a vicious grin. "If you run off with my gil, the black suits will find you. No matter where you try to hide, we'll find you and fucking skin you alive." He shoved the gil into her shaking hand. "Now go find Robey and bring that potion back here already. I ain't got all day."

She scurried off. Ever so slowly, he settled back against the wall. Every breath flooded his right side with pain so intense it made little spots dance before his eyes. Even while sitting his head was spinning. Lying down on the ground would mark him as an easy target for thieves, though – not to mention the rats and the cripshays.

Blinking away the persistent blur that kept creeping into his vision, Reno waited.


	7. A Ray of Green-Tinged Light

"Mister? Hey mister, wake up!"

Reno flinched awake, and really wished he hadn't. He spent a minute hissing out curses between clamped teeth, until the brunt of the pain stabbing into his side passed. When he was able to look up, he saw the girl he'd sent to Robey, holding up a brown glass bottle that was an inch taller than her palm. Reno snatched the bottle out of her hand, uncorked it and dipped in his pinky finger for a taste test. The tingle on his tongue wasn't as strong as he'd hoped, but it was clearly a healing potion she'd brought.

"You did good," he rasped and handed over the twenty-gil note. "Now get on outta here."

The girl snatched up her reward and off she went.

Reno poured the liquid down his throat and braced himself for the disquieting rush of healing. It came, but the prickling wave that swept over his body burned the hottest in his scalp and wrist. The sharp pain in his side hardly diminished at all. The bones remained broken.

Doc Robey must have watered the potion down, the bastard. Left it with just enough oomph to heal cuts and bruises, but not a drop more. That would explain why it came in an unlabeled bottle, too. No wonder the asshole had lost his medical license up above.

Reno pushed himself up on unsteady legs. His breaths weren't as harrowing anymore and while his steps were shaky, he was able to take them. Maybe he wouldn't die just yet after all.

No point heading over to Robey's. The shifty bastard would just try to stiff him again, and Reno didn't have the strength to beat him up for it. His target was closer than Wall Market anyway, and the Turk he was meant to relieve was waiting. If he missed his shift, he'd have a lot of explaining to do. Reno closed his eyes and cursed under his breath.

He could grab a Restore materia or a hi-potion back at HQ. He just needed to make it through one shift first. One single boring shift of watching some girl plant flowers, as far as he'd heard.

Reno spent a few minutes locating his mag rod, then began his slow trek to Sector 5.

* * *

 

Towering tall above all other buildings in Sector 5, the church was easy to find. Reno scanned the facade of grey stone as he approached, looking for the Turk he was supposed to meet. No last-minute change to plan, it seemed: a short, blonde woman in a black suit was waiting in the shadows near one of the tall, slim windows. Reno knew her name – Emma – but he hadn't talked to her before. He pushed his hands into his pockets so he could press one arm into his side to support his ribs, and tried to make his slow, faltering steps look like a lazy saunter.

"You're late," the other Turk stated as soon as he was close enough to hear.

"Yeah, got a bit turned around on my way over. This ain't my old turf." Reno hoped it sounded more casual to Emma's ears than his.

She frowned as she looked him over.

"You look terrible."

Reno looked down at himself. No blood, fortunately, but the legs of his trousers were streaked with muck. He could only imagine what state his hair was in.

"Had a bit of a wild night, that's all." He dredged up a smile, trying to make it look smug and unrepentant. That was the reputation he'd made for himself, after all. The cocky, irreverent slum kid who coasted through life with a grin and no apologies; the guy who would one day be ace of the Turks. Just you wait and see, pal.

And now Reno was waiting to see if he'd even make it to the end of the day. What a fucking joke.

"Any chance you've got a Restore materia on you?" he added, trying his best to sound casual.

Emma rolled her eyes.

"No, and a Cure wouldn't fix that kind of headache anyway."

"Figures," he muttered, trying not to grimace as he adjusted the arm he kept pressed against his ribs.

Emma was still watching him. Still frowning.

"Are you up for this? You look white as a sheet."

If he mentioned the attack there would be questions, lots of them. Questions were the last thing Reno wanted.

"Just the smell," he said, forcing a grin onto his face. "I'd forgotten how much it stinks under the plate."

Emma snorted – or maybe scoffed.

"Good luck with your first shift, then. The Ancient is inside. I'd tell you to have fun, but... you won't." She smiled without amusement. "The call you'll get at five thirty will be sweet relief from mind-numbing boredom."

"Hey, speaking of that," Reno said before she could leave. "Uh... Could you get someone to bring me a new PHS? Mine kinda... got lost."

This time, she definitely scoffed.

Once she'd left, Reno peeked in through the narrow window, but the old colored glass distorted the view too much for a good look. He recalled seeing one of the church doors propped open a bit. With any luck, it'd be enough to sneak inside without disturbing any creaky hinges.

The gap between the doors was just large enough. Reno carefully shimmied inside, keeping an eye on the girl who was kneeling at the other end of the church. She had her back to him and seemed completely absorbed with the yellow flowers that grew through the floor in an irregular patch.

As soon as he reached the closest pillar, Reno had to pause and suck in a few extra breaths. It was getting hard to breathe, especially when he had to be careful not to make any noise. Good thing he'd headed inside; no way would he be able to stand outside a window for an entire shift. Maybe one of the pews that littered the church floor would be secluded enough for him to sit unnoticed.

First, though, Reno wanted a look at the target. Once he'd caught his breath, he headed to the right, keeping the moldering pews between him and her. Sticking to the shadows, he made his way closer, shuffling from one crumbling pillar to the next, until he had a decent sideways view of her.

The girl was dressed in a simple, sleeveless blue dress. Her brown hair was gathered into a braid that reached her waist, though some of it had escaped and formed bangs on the sides of her face. A very pretty face, he noticed, looking all sweet and innocent. The Turks who complained about having to watch her hadn't mentioned that part.

The girl had to be younger than him. Why the hell was she codenamed the Ancient?

Her real name was Aerith Gainsborough, Tseng had told him. Lived with her mother Elmyra in the Sector 5 slums. Grew flowers and sold them. The rest was above his paygrade. Tseng hadn't said that last bit out loud, but Reno could read between the lines.

Maybe she was the result of one of the President's many affairs. Rumor had it Lazard Deusericus wasn't the only Shinra bastard around town. If she was the President's daughter, though, the apple had fallen miles from the tree. The color of her hair and eyes, the shape of her face, her features – nothing matched the Shinra clan.

Thank fuck for that.

A wet, violent cough surprised Reno. He threw his hand over his mouth and tried to keep it down, but the pain in his side flared up and nearly toppled him off his feet.

"Are you okay?"

 _Shit_. As Reno huddled behind the pillar and tried to silence his wheezing breaths, it occurred to him that she hadn't asked who was there. She hadn't even sounded surprised, or afraid. He'd already failed half of the mission: remain undetected.

His coughing fit left him barely able to draw breath at all. Before he could even think about slinking away undetected, the girl came around the pillar. As she pulled his hand away from his mouth, he saw blood spattered all over it.

"Come, sit down."

He was too lightheaded to protest as she led him to one of the rundown pews. No matter how hard he gasped for air, his chest only ached more. Old Robey would pay for this... if Reno lived long enough to pay the lousy quack a visit.

"Stay still," Aerith ordered. "This won't take long."

 _What_ wouldn't take long? Rifling through his pockets? Slitting his throat?

No, _worse_. Reno tried to flinch away as she pulled his jacket aside and reached for his broken ribs – but the agony he expected never came. A green light swirled over her hand as it hovered over his injury. The warmth of it poured into his broken bones, drowning out the pain with its pleasant glow. It grew warmer and stronger, and when it bloomed out across his chest and into his limbs, it washed away every single ache in a wave of what Reno could only describe as pure bliss. The weight on his shoulders lifted, the pressure on his chest faded – all he knew was her light and her warmth.

As the sensation began to fade, the ever-present hollow hurt inside returned... but his physical ailments were gone. Stunned, Reno gazed up at her. Never before had he felt the magic of a healing materia embrace him so completely.

"I haven't seen you before," Aerith said as she withdrew her hand.

"First time on this job." As soon as he'd mumbled it, Reno realized he probably shouldn't have.

"Is that so?" She smiled. "Is this how you usually introduce yourself to a girl you've never met before?"

"Only if she's something special."

His grin was probably as goofy as the line he'd just spewed, but Reno was still too addled to care. Who would have guessed that a simple absence of pain could feel so euphoric?

She laughed. "Oh, Gaia. You're one of the cheesy ones."

Reno had an even cheesier question he wanted to ask: what was a girl with that kind of healing skill doing in a place like this? Was that why Shinra was interested in her? Had she come to the slums to hide?

She spoke like a south-side slummer, though. She was pale enough for an underplater, too. Either she was a master at subterfuge, or she'd been living in the slums for a long time.

"New or not, I'll bet you already know my name," she said, eyeing his suit. "What's yours?"

As Reno's mind recovered from the sudden healing, his caution returned. She clearly knew what he was and why he was there. Why would she help him?

"Why?" he asked, pushing himself up straighter on the pew.

Aerith smiled again.

"I could just call you Mister Turk, but since I just saved you from an unpleasant and gruesome end, I think we can move on to first names."

Her smile was both warm and teasing at the same time. It was alarming, how easily it made Reno want to smile back.

What harm was in a name, though? He'd only been using his for a few months. Asking about "Reno" below plate would get her less information than his description, and she'd already seen his face, even though she wasn't supposed to.

"Reno," he said at last.

"Reno," she repeated slowly, drawing out the first half. "Come sit up front. I should keep an eye on you for a while, just in case."

"You only say that because I'm so easy on the eyes," Reno drawled with a lopsided smile. She already had him pegged as a cheesy flirt. It was a comfortable persona to slip into, one that kept people at a casual distance while appearing to do the opposite.

"Don't be silly," she giggled, then gave him a coy look. "That's just a nice perk."

He should have slunk back into the shadows where he belonged. He should have remained on his toes... but Aerith's smile drew him in. When she headed back to the front of the church, Reno followed.

Maybe traces of her healing magic lingered, for as he sat on a decaying pew in the abandoned church, surrounded by the scent of warmed soil and flowers and her flirty giggles, a relaxed ease crept up on him. As the hours passed, Reno found that the cause didn't really matter. All he cared about that afternoon was that for the first time in weeks, the clouds hanging over him grew lighter.


	8. Same Dog, Different Owner

The Sector 5 church was in a sad state. The floorboards had rotted away, leaving the soil beneath exposed to the light coming in from somewhere above. Reno bent over the edge of the flowerbed, his knees pushed deep into the soil as he tugged up weeds among the yellow flowers. He idly wondered what deity the church had been dedicated to. His musings were brief, though; he'd never had much patience for such things. He preferred things he could see and touch.

"Where did all these flowers come from?" he asked.

Beside him, Aerith looked up. She was busy tidying her own spot of the flowerbed.

"A few were already growing here when I found this place," Aerith said, looking around at the flowers. "I liked them, so my mom showed me how to water and weed them." Her smile beamed with pride. "Guess they like my touch."

"Well, who wouldn't?"

She giggled and flung a handful of weeds at him.

"Hey!" He laughed, brushing half-crushed leaves off his sleeve. "Watch the suit, will you!"

Every time he laughed with her, it got easier. After three shifts in three days, he barely had to put any effort into it at all.

"I will once you start watching your mouth." She scowled at him playfully, still smiling.

On his second shift, she'd asked him to help her carry water from a reservoir outside. He'd agreed, because it wasn't like he'd had anything better to do. As he'd helped her water the flowers, she'd told him their names, though he was pretty sure he'd already gotten them jumbled up in his head. This morning she'd taught him the difference between weeds and flowers, and how to yank up the unwanted ones with roots and all. Much to his surprise, he liked it. Unlike whatever deity the church had been built for, the flowers inside it were simple things he could see and touch.

"What?" he protested, matching her playful tone. "I didn't say anything bad, did I?"

"Oh, you were saying plenty between the lines."

Reno grinned. "Guess you got me there."

He wondered if any of the other Turks did this with the so-called Ancient. Probably not. If they did, they wouldn't yammer on about how boring their shifts were. No, it seemed this kind of interaction only existed between him and her.

He liked that, too.

* * *

 

Thanks to his below-plate surveillance gig, Reno managed to avoid the Turk offices for three days straight. On the fourth, Tseng called him back in. He refused to give any details over the phone.

Reno hadn't mentioned Balto's attack to anyone, but Tseng could have found out about it some other way. Or it could be worse. With one form of revenge thwarted, Cissnei might have decided to tell Tseng what Reno had done.

Both possibilities made Reno so queasy he'd had to skip breakfast, but there was a third one he dreaded far more. He may have steered clear of the office, but the Turks who came to relieve him had filled him in on the rumors. Rufus Shinra, now Vice-President, was about to embark on a long-term business trip. Speculation was running wild about which Turk would accompany him as security; some saw it as an opportunity to prove themselves to Veld, while others were keen on the chance to get out of Midgar for a while. Reno had balled his fists tight and kept his mouth shut, until he could change the subject.

Tseng sat at his desk once again. Reno knew the man did his fair share of fieldwork; he just couldn't figure out when. Maybe he had an evil twin. Reno shuddered at the thought.

Tseng leaned back in his chair and looked over his subordinate with a critical eye.

"Still no tie?"

For the first time in days, Reno had buttoned up his shirt the proper way. It was the best he could do.

"Sorry, boss. Must have lost it somewhere."

"Like you lost your PHS?"

He swallowed hard, feeling his face go colder. He could only hope he hadn't gone white enough for Tseng to notice.

"What you do in your free time is your own business," Tseng said in that cool, condescending tone Reno hated, "but if it starts bleeding into your work, for example by losing Shinra-issued belongings when you're dead drunk, we're going to have a problem. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yeah," Reno muttered, staring down at his shoes.

"What's that?"

"Yes, sir."

Tseng's eyes narrowed. Reno must have let his bitterness show.

"Now, onto the reason I called you here. I'm sure you've heard of the Vice-President's upcoming business trip?"

Reno wished he'd been sitting down, because his knees felt like jelly.

"Yeah," he managed to get out.

No way in hell was he going on a long-term trip alone with Shinra. He'd rather jump head-first off the edge of the plate.

"Since a Turk must accompany the VP at all times, the security arrangements have required a number of reassignments."

Reno closed his eyes. Refusal might bring down his third strike and the loss of the new life he had tried to make for himself above the plate – but the alternative was unthinkable.

"Your main assignment is still the Ancient, but you will be called in occasionally for bodyguard duty, such as today. You are to accompany Scarlet on an overnight assignment."

Reno's eyes flew open. "Scarlet?"

Tseng pursed his lips, possibly in disapproval. Reno felt too lightheaded to care.

"The Head of Weapons Development," his boss said, "as you well should know. She's traveling to Costa del Sol today, to oversee the weaponry on a new storm boat prototype. It's scheduled for testing tomorrow at the naval base we have there."

"Sure." The word whooshed out of Reno like a sigh of relief. "No problem, boss."

* * *

 

After lunch, Reno headed up to HQ's helipad. The elevator opened straight into a lounge, where a blonde woman in a blood-red dress sat waiting with a champagne flute in her hand. Reno had never had any dealings with Scarlet before, but he knew of her by looks and reputation. Especially looks – not only was she the only woman on Shinra's board of executives, but she had a habit of showing off her curvy body with tight, low-cut dresses. No one with eyes in their head could possibly miss her presence, which Reno assumed was the point.

"Reno of the Turks," he introduced himself. "I'm your security on this trip."

The woman set down her drink, uncrossed her long legs and rose to her feet with a fluid grace that made it hard for Reno not to stare as she sashayed up to him. In her three-inch stilettos she was as tall as him, if not taller. She seemed to be in her thirties, but her heavy makeup likely masked her age. Whether it made her looked younger or older than she really was, Reno couldn't tell.

Her eyes raked over him with haughty contempt.

"You call this proper uniform?"

Aerith never complained about the state of his suit or the lack of a tie. She smiled and laughed and threw weeds at him.

Reno placed a crooked smile on his face.

"I don't need a goddamn tie to take down bad guys."

Scarlet raised a perfectly-shaped eyebrow.

"Am I going to have a problem with you?" she crooned with a smile that made Reno's shoulders tense up.

"No, ma'am."

"Good. You wouldn't want me on your bad side." With a flick of her blonde hair, she turned around. "Heel, Turk," she commanded. "The sooner I'm at the hotel, the better."

And this was the woman he was stuck with for the next thirty hours. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Scarlet's heels clicked sharply against the floor as she headed for the door to the helipad. Reno's eyes dipped down to her swaying ass as he followed. At least her body was pure eye candy.

_Shame about everything else._

The uninvited memory triggered a swell of nausea. The worst part wasn't the shame or the bitterness; it was the mindless, pointless longing that still lingered. That was the part that twisted it all into hate – most of it aimed at his stupid self.

Reno was able to bury it during the flight to Costa del Sol, because he spent it in the cockpit, earning points for his pilot's license. The sky was calm and his instructor for the day, a bubbly Turk called Freyra, was happy to pass the time with banter, peppered with anecdotes from her missions and hunts. They parted ways at the airport, since she was scheduled to return to Midgar right away. Reno trudged after Scarlet as she swept through the airport on her stilettos, and joined her in the back of the white limo that was waiting for them.

The first five minutes of the drive passed in a silence as thick as the smell of Scarlet's cloying perfume. That was fine by Reno – he'd only been in Costa del Sol once before. He examined every swaying palm tree with curious eyes; eyes that stung from the bright light. The sunshine was everywhere. The palm trees were _drowning_ in it. Growing up, he'd only caught the occasional stray beam filtering down through gaps in the plate, or a bright rim on the horizon. Even above the plate sunny days were a rarity, thanks to the seemingly never-ending clouds hanging over Midgar.

"How old are you?" Scarlet asked.

"What's it to you?"

His comeback slipped out automatically, before he'd had a chance to return from his thoughts. Luckily Scarlet just laughed; a nasal sound that grated Reno's ears.

"Let's call it personal curiosity."

During their earlier exchanges she had barely spared him a glance, but now she was watching him intently. Her red lips were parted in a smile, showing a glimpse of teeth. Reno thought of the sharks that scoured the oceans off the coast of Costa and pushed himself farther from her, masking it as an attempt to slouch deeper in his seat.

"Old enough," he replied, as nonchalantly as possible.

Reno felt the seat shift as she moved in closer, yet he didn't expect her to actually put her hand on his thigh. When he tensed and turned his head, she was smiling.

"That's what I wanted to hear," she crooned, and slid her hand up to his groin.

He instinctively flinched back, but didn't get very far; between the car door and her body, Scarlet had him pinned. He looked down in disbelief as her hand slid back and forth over the front of his pants.

"What the fuck..."

"These long car rides bore me."

Stunned, Reno stared at her slim fingers, tipped with red nails so long they made him think of claws. To his horror, he felt his dick respond to her insistent massage.

What could he do? Tell her to fuck off? He knew her reputation; she'd flip her lid. If Reno didn't get fired outright, Veld or Tseng might just have to reassign him outside of Midgar to keep him out of her sights.

Rufus was out of town and would remain abroad for the foreseeable future. Maybe they'd assign Reno back to him. Reno's heart leapt into a wild race, egged on by the surge of adrenaline that shot through his veins. His throat was beginning to feel too tight.

He flinched back to the present when he felt Scarlet touch his bare skin. His trousers were undone just far enough for her to slip a hand into his boxers. She grabbed hold of his erection and began to jack him off with firm, steady strokes.

"Oh fuck," he breathed.

"Feels good, does it?" she purred.

His right hand clawed into the leather seat, while the other squeezed the handle of his mag rod. His fingers twitched with the urge to whip it out and fight her off, but he knew he'd never get away with it. Reno of the Turks, flying into a panic because a woman was giving him a hand job? The other Turks would laugh their asses off as they kicked him off the plate for assaulting an executive.

At a loss for what to do, Reno turned his face away from her. On the other side of the window, tinted so dark that no one could see in, Costa del Sol's bright streets rolled on by. He saw sunbaked houses and smiling faces flash past, making it all feel like some bizarre sequence from a nightmarish fever dream. He had pressed himself into the corner, every muscle in his body coiled as tightly as they would go. Scarlet's bosom was pressing him into the side of the car, suffocating him just as surely as the heavy perfume that cloyed his nose. Yet even as he gasped for breath, his cock swelled in her pumping hand, pulsing with the need for release.

She was going to make him come in his pants.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck..." He was panting it without pause now, whimpering his chant under his breath like a perverse prayer.

But no deity responded, because the pressure in his groin exploded and gushed out of him in a heady rush. Reno threw his head back and bit down on a cry with clenched teeth, bucking his hips out of his seat, until Scarlet had milked every last drop from his twitching cock.

Feeling dizzy, he slumped back, staring down dumbly at his groin. When Scarlet pulled out her hand, he saw his creamy seed smeared over her fingers. She'd only caught a little of it; the rest was oozing down his balls and seeping into his underwear.

Scarlet took one look at her hand and wrinkled her nose. She pulled out a tissue from her handbag and wiped her fingers dry. She didn't offer a tissue to Reno. He didn't ask for one. He was too fucking humiliated to speak.

"Do up your pants already," Scarlet complained with a long-suffering air, as though she was scolding some useless brat. "It's disgraceful, advertising like that."

Reno's face burned like a furnace. With fumbling hands, he did as he was told.


	9. Situation Nominal

As soon as the limo came to a halt outside the hotel, Reno burst out of it. The air of Costa del Sol hit his face like a hot damp towel – but even that was a relief compared to the stench of Scarlet's cloying perfume. It was also a stark contrast to his cold, slimy boxers.

Fucking _Scarlet_ had jerked him off in his pants. Reno still couldn't wrap his head around it. What the hell had she done that for? She knew that he still had work to do, that he couldn't just vanish and get changed.

A Shinra liaison held the door open for Scarlet on the other side of the limo. The executive in red stepped out and sauntered toward the hotel entrance with the flunky in tow, who chattered about arrangements and schedules at a hundred miles a minute.

Reno couldn't just hide behind the car forever. At a loss for what else to do, he pulled out his shirt. After checking the front for stains, he let the tails hang free to cover his groin. Wasn't like he needed to worry about Scarlet bitching about his uniform, after all. She'd already done plenty of that.

Once inside, Scarlet spent some time talking with a balding man in a pricey-looking suit. The manager, Reno guessed – only he should've been paying enough attention that he wouldn't have to _guess_. He needed to get a grip and fast, before he'd fuck something up.

Reno slunk into the elevator after the rest of Scarlet's entourage. As he spun around to face the doors, he caught her glance at his untucked shirt, and the smug sneer she sent his way. The fucking hag was enjoying this. His back may have been turned, but her suffocating perfume crept into his nose as though to make sure he couldn't ignore her. At least it was strong enough to mask the smell of his spunk in his pants.

He was able to escape her perfume for a while, as he inspected her impeccably fresh suite. He couldn't flee his soiled boxers, though; a slimy sensation made ten times worse by the fact that he had three people watching his every move. Reno was no longer sure which part of this fucked-up situation he hated the most.

Not that it mattered. Better to just get it over with, so he could ditch the bitch in her hotel room and have a fucking shower already.

Reno checked the closets and the drawers, peeked under the bed, glanced over the black tiles and the silver fittings of the bathroom. The inspection was about as cursory as he could get away with, considering the audience at the door.

"All clear," he was able to call at last.

He looked out of the window to keep his back turned to the others. As the manager and the assistant babbled on in a duet of useless platitudes, Reno wondered if he could get away with kicking them the fuck out already, Turk-style. Scarlet might find it amusing, the bitch – or she might decide to call it an excuse to fuck with him some more.

Or maybe this _was_ her way of fucking with him. Maybe that was why she kept asking more and more pointless questions; questions she must have known the answers to already, considering how often she visited this town. Maybe she got some kind of twisted kicks from watching him stew in it, literally.

Reno stood still, staring out over the glittering ocean, and kept his itching fists tight by his sides.

The door closed and the room fell silent at last. Reno took a slow breath, then turned around. Scarlet had taken a seat on the bed and was watching him with heavy-lidded eyes.

"Alone at last." She slid her hands behind her on the bed, leaning back. "Tell me, did you enjoy my little... _favor_ in the car?"

"Best fun I've had with my pants on." He couldn't quite make it indifferent, so he tried to make it dry and sarcastic instead. "But if you don't mind, it's about time for my break."

"Not so fast." Her voice changed into a silken purr that raised the hairs in the back of his neck. "I did you a favor, Turk. You'd better repay it."

 _Or what_ , Reno's brain instantly challenged. He kept his mouth shut, though. He already knew the answer. Scarlet was a Shinra executive. A member of the board – just like Rufus fucking Shinra.

Reno cut off that train of thought right there.

What did that matter, anyway? Reno dropped his gaze from her bitchy smirk and let it wander over her body. Her breasts strained against her figure-hugging dress, barely contained by the low-cut neckline. Executive or not, bitch or not – at the end of the day Scarlet was one hot-looking woman. Would Reno of the Turks say no when a hot-looking woman was coming on to him?

Like hell he would. Reno of the Turks would have a damn good time and brag about it afterwards. It sure was what Ruluf would do. Hell, if Ruluf had been sent on this job instead, he'd tell everyone all about the time he got a handjob from a Shinra executive in a goddamn limo, and would make sure to point out that she'd been so blown away by what she found in his pants that she'd come back for more.

Reno put on his best cocky smile.

"Whatever you say, ma'am."

"Good boy," Scarlet crooned.

She hiked up her skirt and spread her legs, and like the good boy she claimed he was, Reno kneeled between them.

It was easier to go down on her than Rufus, at first; if nothing else, women were more familiar territory, and the scent of a woman always got his blood pumping. It pumped all the way down into his groin, and Reno soon felt his dick swelling again.

Then she grabbed his hair with both hands and yanked. The sudden sickening feeling rising up from his stomach nearly got the best of him right then and there, but he squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed hard until it went away.

"Did I tell you to stop?" Scarlet hissed.

She gave his hair another tug, and he buried his face between her thighs; desperate to make her stop, and just as desperate to get it over with as quickly as possible. He listened for her little gasps of breath and felt for the way her muscles tightened, so he could follow her cues before she felt the need to correct him.

He'd been proud of it, his skill in getting women off. Ruluf may have had plenty more notches on his bedpost, but at least the ones on Reno's had mostly good things to say about him. Figuring out the right buttons to push for each one had been part of the fun. He could _read_ people; that's what he'd thought.

Such a joke. He sure as hell hadn't read Cissnei right, nor Rufus fucking Shinra. No wonder Reno had ended up as the Shinra executives' private fucktoy. What else was he good for?

Nothing, that's what. Not a goddamn thing.

Scarlet arched off the bed, keening, thighs trembling. As she slumped back on the bed, Reno sat up on his heels and wiped his mouth with a shaking hand. His gaze traveled down, along her legs, past the hem of her bright red dress and her matching stilettos, until all that remained in his view was his knees on the plush white carpet.

"Leave, Turk. I have no further use for you today."

Reno glanced at her as he picked himself up off the floor. She sat at the edge of the bed, legs crossed, and studied her nails. She didn't look at him.

* * *

 

Reno found himself being pelted by a steaming hot stream of water. He wasn't entirely sure how he'd ended up in a shower, but he had to be in his hotel room. Scarlet wouldn't let someone like him soil her shower.

He squeezed his hand into a fist and slammed it into the tile wall. The sharp pang shot up his arm, trapping his breath in his throat, and scattered his thoughts in a blissful haze of pain.

His hotel room was half the size of his apartment. The bed was nearly twice as big as the one in his place, surrounded by piles of the clothing he'd torn off his body as soon as the hotel room door had clicked shut behind him. His bare feet sank into the thick carpet like pebbles landing in the smooth, bleached sand of Costa del Sol's beaches.

Reno sat down on the edge of the bed. He stared down at his hands, hanging loose between his thighs, his fingers trembling like leaves in the wind. His knuckles were still red, still throbbing dully in time with his pulse, but it was no longer enough to distract him from the hollow weight in his chest. He could see Scarlet's sneer, could smell her perfume and her sex on him as though he'd never had that shower at all, felt her fingers twisting his hair, her fucking _claws_ digging into his _fucking scalp_ –

Reno bared his teeth in a grimace. What the fuck was his problem? So he'd gone down on a woman, big deal. A woman with killer legs and great tits, at that. He should be so fucking pleased with himself that anyone could take one look at his smug grin and know just what he'd been up to.

He wasn't grinning, though. And why wouldn't his stupid hands stop shaking?

Because he needed a drink, that was why.

Reno jumped up off the bed and stormed over to his suitcase.

The hotel bar was on the ground floor, complete with patio and seaside view. Reno didn't give a fuck about the scenery. With barely a glance at the few hotel guests scattered among the plush chairs and round glass tables, he marched straight to the bar.

"Vodka, straight."

The bartender narrowed his eyes and seemed on the verge of opening his mouth, but one look at the wrinkled Turk suit Reno had pulled on straight out of his suitcase changed the guy's mind. For a second Reno wondered what the legal drinking age might be in Costa del Sol – a hurdle he'd only encountered after he moved above-plate – but only for a second, before he decided he didn't have two shits to give about that either.

The bartender set down a frosted shot glass in front of Reno. The glass chilled his fingers, while the liquid inside set his throat on fire on the way down. Reno grimaced as he set down his glass, then gestured for a refill.

"Keep them coming," he rasped as the bartender hurried to fulfill his order.

The second shot vanished as quickly, chasing after the first. The heat of it bloomed past Reno's lungs and all the way up to his face. The searing weight in his chest refused to go away these days, but the burn of alcohol was enough to keep his mind off it. If he poured enough vodka down his throat, he might not notice it at all.

Until the morning, of course. Whatever. That was tomorrow's problem.


	10. Cracks in the Surface

Reno started awake as a shrill ringing noise drilled its way into his brain. He dragged the handset off the phone by his bed.

"Good morning! This is your seven thirty wake-up call–"

"Fuck," Reno moaned and hung up.

His eyes had just drooped closed when the phone shrieked at him again. Gritting his teeth against the throbbing in his head, he snatched up the handset.

"Good morning! This is Maya from the front desk again. Just making sure you got your seven thirty wake-up–"

"Okay, okay," he groaned, "I fucking got it already!"

"...Then I wish you a good day, sir."

Reno let the beeping receiver fall out of his hand and lay sprawled out on the bed for another minute, while the consequences of his decisions caught up with him in the form of a killer headache.

Groaning, he crawled off the bed and dragged his protesting body in front of the full-length mirror by the door. His eyes were as red as his hair, which stuck out in all directions. His suit was one big heap of wrinkles. His dress shirt was no better, untucked as it was, held together by only a few buttons. He looked a fucking mess. The smell was probably worse.

Whatever. Too hungover to care, that's what he was. If Scarlet had a problem with it, she could do them both a fucking _favor_ and send him straight back to Midgar.

She didn't. Of course she didn't. She just wrinkled her nose at him as though he was something the cat had dragged in and marched out of her suite, dressed in blood red from head to toe.

Reno suffered silently through a morning at the test range, stuck at his post within the miasma of Scarlet's perfume. Each blast from her cannon prototype rattled his brain against his skull. By noon he was ready to take on the Midgar Zolom with his bare hands if it meant getting the hell out of Costa.

He didn't have to, though. The limo took them straight to the airport, where a helicopter was prepped and waiting. Freyra, the bubbly Turk with the enormous ponytail, sat in the cockpit again. Her jaw dropped as she looked him over.

"Shiva's tits, Reno, what happened to you? I thought you just had some babysitting to do!"

"So did I," he mumbled.

As he hoisted himself up, Freyra scrunched up her nose in a grimace.

"Oh, no you don't!" She threw her arm over the co-pilot's seat, keeping him out of it. "I'm not flying all the way to Midgar next to a guy who stinks of old booze! You're riding in the back, rookie."

In the back meant riding with Scarlet. Reno's stomach did an unpleasant flip.

"Look," he said, meeting Freyra's scowl with pleading eyes. "I had a really rough night, and today's been absolute shit so far. Give me a break here, okay?" He glanced toward the back of the helicopter and lowered his voice. "Don't make me ride with fucking _Scarlet_."

She frowned at him for a few moments, then sighed and pulled out a key card from her jacket pocket. She handed it to him and pointed at a squat, beige cube of a building at the end of the airfield.

"There's a staff shower in there. You have fifteen minutes."

"Thanks," Reno called over his shoulder as he hopped down. "I owe you one!"

"Damn straight you do!"

* * *

 

Once they'd set down on Shinra HQ's helipad, Reno escorted Scarlet into the same lounge where he'd first met her. Had it really been only yesterday?

The executive took a moment to examine him. Reno kept his hands in his pockets and tried his best to stay still under her appraising gaze. He may have showered, but he hadn't had the time to comb his hair or take care with his suit. After an intercontinental flight, he probably looked even worse than he had that morning.

"That will be all," Scarlet said coolly. "I'll inform your handler that your performance was... adequate." A lascivious smile appeared on her face as her gaze roamed across the gaps in his half-buttoned shirt. "Until next time, Turk."

Reno stared at the helipad door as her heels clicked across the floor. His shoulders remained tightly strung until the elevator doors whooshed shut; then they sagged down, along with his head.

* * *

 

Reno only meant to quickly pop in and out of the Turk offices, just long enough to sign off on the Costa job. Just his luck, then, that the moment he stepped in, Veld's office door opened and out came the chief himself. Reno went pale in an instant, painfully aware of his unkempt suit, his uncombed hair, his untucked shirt.

Veld didn't spare him more than a glance, though. The glower on his face had to be due to something far worse than a uniform violation.

Another person walked out of the office, and Reno found himself face to face with Balto. Their eyes locked as they passed each other. Balto was the first to look away.

Tseng brought up the rear, but despite the disapproving glance he cast at Reno, he continued on after the others without a pause or a word.

A few doors down the corridor, Reno spotted another familiar face, framed by a wild, asymmetric haircut. Ruluf was leaning against the doorframe to his office with one shoulder, keeping a casual eye on the somber procession. When he shifted his unconcerned gaze to Reno, Ruluf let out a low whistle and broke into a grin.

"Looks like _someone_ had a wild time in Costa."

"Hey," Reno greeted as he came up to him, ignoring the pointed remark. "What's up with..." He tilted his head toward Balto's receding back.

The other man's grin took on a wicked slant.

"Well, Judet says Balto's in deep shit for 'professional misconduct'. No one seems know for sure what that actually means, but..." Ruluf glanced around, and leaned in closer. "Word is he got a bit too touchy-feely with his hot little trainee."

Lost for words, Reno just stared.

"Yeah. _Cissnei_." Ruluf laughed as he settled back against the doorframe. "Can't say I blame the guy."

Some dark emotion seeped into the hollow in Reno's chest; he couldn't pin it down, but whatever it was, it made his jaw tight and his fists clench.

"Looks like it wasn't such a great idea," he muttered, inclining his head toward the trio heading out of the offices.

"Oh, please. As if you wouldn't tap that yourself the second you got the chance."

Reno looked away from the door that closed behind Tseng's back, away from Ruluf. He didn't trust the expression on his face.

"Speaking of, though..." Ruluf made a show of looking around, as though it was all some big fucking conspiracy. "How was your one-nighter with Shinra's number one bitch in red?"

And there it was, just as Reno had expected. As he had _known_. The rumors would fly no matter what he said. Better to have them gossip about him and Scarlet, than to risk having them figure out there had been something going on between him and Cissnei.

_Better than having them figure out that_ you're _the bitch who took it up the ass, too._

A grimace threatened to curl his lip just as he faced Ruluf again, but Reno turned it into a smirk.

"Let's just say the bitch in red is a bitch in bed, too."

"So _that's_ what happened to your uniform." Snickering, Ruluf clapped Reno's shoulder. "You'd better not let the chief see you like this when he gets back. You'll give the man a fucking stroke."

Reno shrugged. "Whatever. If Veld has a problem with it, he can take it up with main bitch herself."

And for a second, he hoped Veld would. That the chief would _notice_ , would demand an explanation, and that when he got one, he would march right into Scarlet's office and tell her to keep her hands off his rookies. Like he must have told Balto to keep his grubby hands off Cissnei.

A chill spread in Reno's stomach as he stared at Veld's office door. Or maybe the chief was going straight to Cissnei, to hear her side of the story. Maybe she'd tell him about more than just Balto. Maybe Reno would be the next one to march out of the Turk offices between his bosses, carted away to who knew where, never to be seen again.

"Lucky bastard." Ruluf was still sniggering. "Of course you'd be doing a fucking _executive_ , instead of the secretaries like the rest of us."

"Yeah, that's me." Reno forced his grin wider. "One lucky bastard."

The other man looked as his watch.

"Hey, got time for lunch? You give me all the dirty details of your hot trip to Costa, and I'll tell you all about this sweet little blonde from the twelfth floor. Play your cards right, and she'll let you do _anything_."

Reno's chest felt tighter and tighter by the second.

"Can't," he blurted. "I've got to... get to my shift down below."

Ruluf tilted his head, giving him a funny look.

"Didn't you just get in from the other job?"

"Double shift," Reno said, spouting off the first thing that came to mind. "Need the extra cash."

"Gotcha." Ruluf brought two fingers to his forehead in a lazy salute. "Catch you later, then."

* * *

 

It hadn't all been a lie. Reno had a shift that day – only he wasn't due to show up for another few hours. He'd had a bite to eat, checked out the Sector 5 market in the slums. He was running out of distractions. Reno eyed the neon sign of the nearest dive – but turned away. Professionals didn't drink right before a shift.

_Professional_ what _, exactly?_

Reno tried to push that question out of his mind, but his steps grew heavier and heavier as he trudged on. The weight in his chest seeped into his ribs, turning them to lead. Booze wouldn't rid him of it, but oh how fucking happy he'd be to just forget about it for another little while.

A couple of scruffy guys occupied the entrance to an alley, neither of them any older than Reno. He checked their hands and their belts, stared them down as he sauntered past. They scowled and balled their hands into fists, like sullen, posturing dogs thwarted by a fence – his Turk suit, in this case. Reno knew exactly how they felt, what they were thinking. He'd been like them not too long ago, salivating at the thought of taking down a lone Turk – who could claim that kind of fame? – but held back by the Turks' reputation.

_If only they knew._

When Tseng and Veld had asked Reno to join the Turks, he'd assumed they valued his fighting skills or his connections below plate, or maybe even his smooth-talking charm. They sure hadn't mentioned _favors_ for the executives in their recruitment spiel.

_Maybe they gave you the suit so they could watch you make a fool of yourself._

Because he sure wasn't much of a Turk, was he? Reno couldn't imagine Tseng just bending over on command like a well-trained bitch. Not Ruluf, not fucking _Balto_. Cissnei sure as hell hadn't gone down without a fight.

Reno's shoulders sank lower.

Aerith had made it go away, once, that heaviness in his chest. With nothing but the touch of her slender hand, she had taken away the weight that dragged him down.

_She could do it again._

She could. She absolutely could.

Reno twirled around. He locked eyes with the bigger thug by the alley and placed an insolent smirk on his face.

"Hey, you! Fuckface!"

Thugs like them weren't a real threat these days, but they were easily taunted, and when they descended on him he was sloppy, reckless. He smacked into their bodies with shoulders and elbows and steel-capped boots. A flying fist busted his bottom lip, a booted heel bruised his thigh. He bloodied his knuckles on their jaws and teeth, cut his palm on a hastily swung blade. It was frantic, messy, vicious – and at the end of the scrap, he was the only one still swaying on his own two feet, with blood on his hands and more pouring out of his nose.

* * *

 

Emma, the blonde Turk whom Reno had never seen crack a smile, was leaning back against the fractured stone wall at the far end of Aerith's abandoned church.

"Holy shit," she said, eyeing him from head to toe. "Should I be worried about you, rookie?"

Reno grinned like a walking corpse.

"Is this the part where I'm supposed to say 'you should've seen the other guys'?"

She did that little huff of hers and turned sideways so she could point around the corner, toward the well behind the church. Aerith stood in that shadowy corner with her back to them, lowering a bucket into the well.

"Do you see them?" Emma asked.

Reno tensed and scanned the piled-up rubble that surrounded the well. He frowned, about to ask what the hell she was talking about, when he spotted movement at the top of a crumbled wall. As he stared, two creatures crawled into view. Bright red skin, slimy green tongues lolling between wide rows of teeth, sharp spikes in the back; Reno hadn't seen these critters before, but one of his old gang mates had once described them over a drink. Hoggers, he'd called them. Reno wasn't sure why; they looked more like spiky toads with teeth.

Aerith dropped her bucket and spun around as the creatures landed on the ground behind her. They were only about waist-high, but in sheer mass and bulk they each had her outmatched. With outstretched arms, the larger one pounced.

"Shit," Reno hissed, but when he reached for his mag rod, Emma grabbed his arm and held tight.

"No, wait a sec. Let her handle it."

"Aren't we supposed to keep her in one piece?"

She scoffed. "A couple of hogs won't even get close."

As Reno hesitated, Aerith dove out of the hogger's reach and snatched up a metal rod off the ground. She spun the staff in a wide arc and smashed it down on the head of the larger monster. Reno had seen her staff in the church – Aerith had used it to balance two buckets of water over her shoulder – but he had dismissed it as an impromptu tool and had never given it a second thought. How the hell had it not occurred to him it could be used as a weapon? Sure, it looked like more like a long, rusty pipe than anything he'd seen in the Turk armory, but he of all people should have known that looks meant nothing below the plate.

The second hog lunged at her, only to catch one end of her staff in its stomach. It collapsed with a gurgle and Aerith followed up with another strike to its frog-like head. After cautious looks at the critters, both lying immobile on the ground, she propped her staff against her shoulder and brushed off her dress.

"She's not as sweet and helpless as she may seem," Emma said under her breath. "You might want to remember that."

She gave Reno a pointed look before she turned to leave. With an uneasy twist in his stomach, he wondered if she'd spotted him being too chummy with their target.

Aerith's head whipped up as he stepped into view. When she spotted him, though, she tucked her bangs behind her ears and smiled. Reno felt a warmth spread in his chest and, like a compete idiot, he quickly looked down.

"Guess you handled yourself better with these shits than I did with mine," he remarked, pretending he'd meant to study the fallen beasts all along.

"Sure looks that way," she said, frowning as she leaned forward for a better look at his face. "Ouch. That has to sting."

He shrugged and tried to make his smile as nonchalant as possible.

"Ain't as bad as it looks."

"I should hope so. Come here."

As she examined his face, Reno felt the warmth inside him rise and heat up his cheeks. Blushing like a damn school girl, that's what he was doing. She could probably see right through him.

Why had he pulled a stunt like this, anyway? He was so fucking _stupid_.

"I might be able to do something about that," she mumbled as she examined his split lip.

"You don't have to."

"I know."

He didn't dare breathe as she reached for his face, touched his cheek. She smiled as her green-tinged magic coiled along her fingers and caressed his skin like gentle brushes of a feather. He could have sworn his heart thumped an extra beat when her thumb drew a soft curve on his skin.

She didn't just lift the weight for a while, Reno realized as he gazed into her eyes. She made him fucking _soar_.


	11. So Close, Yet So Far

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, guys. I had trouble figuring out how to skip longer chunks of time without making it boring. This is what I came up with in the end. Does it work?

A solid weight slammed down on Reno's hips, shoving him into the mattress in an even rhythm. He tried to keep his face blank, but his jaw seemed beyond his control. The muscles were bunched up too tight, grinding his teeth together.

Whenever Reno was Scarlet's bodyguard, she ordered him to escort her home before the end of his shift. Recently, she'd taken a liking to handcuffs. This time his arms were stretched out by his head, the cuff chain looped around one of the metal pipes in her bed's headboard. It clanked and rattled in time with Scarlet's movements. If she kept going for much longer, the sound might just make his ears bleed.

Scarlet showed no sign of stopping, though. She huffed air in and out through parted blood-red lips, her round tits barely contained by her dress as she bounced on his dick. She always kept her dress on, even when she made him take off his clothes. Kept her hands on the headboard or the mattress or between her legs. Between his legs at times, but only until he was hard enough for a condom.

Reno closed his eyes. He couldn't hold his breath to keep her perfume out, but with his eyes shut it was easier to focus on the slick pressure that massaged his dick. A pussy was a pussy, no matter whom it was attached to, and his body responded accordingly. He'd learned to do his goddamn best not to come too soon, though. If he went soft before she was done with him, she'd just ride his face instead. Good thing he had a simple trick to use whenever he was getting too close. He just opened his eyes.

The rattling by his head grew louder as Scarlet sped up, her panting turning into breathy moans. Reno gritted his teeth, screwing his eyes shut tighter. She was smart to keep his hands tied. Otherwise he might just flip her around and fuck her from behind like the bitch she was – after he'd removed the condom, so he could flood her defenseless cunt with the cum she clearly found so disgusting, so he could knock her up like some–

Reno arched off the bed and grunted in surprise as the orgasm tore out of him. _Oh fuck_ , was the frantic thought that raced through his head even as he was coming, _she wasn't done yet!_ But right at that moment Scarlet pressed down on him and wailed, pulsing around his still-twitching cock.

A few seconds passed. Then Scarlet straightened up, her sneer back on her face.

"Play hard to get all you want, Turk," she crooned, scraping a manicured nail down his sternum. "You enjoyed that, I could tell."

Reno stared up at the ceiling and kept his mouth shut.

Scarlet unlocked one of his wrists and dropped the key on the pillow, then sauntered out of the room. As soon as both his hands were free, Reno snatched up his clothes and pulled them on. He could already hear the rush of running water behind the door Scarlet had closed after her. He always made sure to be long gone by the time she came out of the shower.

At the foot of Scarlet's swanky high-rise, Reno got into his Shinra company car and took the shortest route to his Shinra-owned home. He left a trail of clothes from the front door to his shower.

Fifteen minutes later his arms and shoulders were as red as his hair. He could have sworn he still reeked of sex. To think he could get sick of it. When was the last time he'd actually wanted a fuck, anyway?

He went still as the stray thought sank in, staring at the fogged-up glass of the shower door.

* * *

 

The thought still pestered Reno as he strolled past the market stalls in the Sector 5 slums. Maybe he didn't waste time chasing tail, he reasoned to himself, because he spent all his energy on the job instead. It wasn't like there was something wrong with him. He wasn't fucking _neutered_. It was just a matter of priorities. He'd been smart, and as a result his career had taken off. He'd even gotten a raise, after thwarting a couple of unexpected attacks by some new terrorist group a month back. Reno spent a few moments searching his memory for the name – AVALANCHE, they called themselves. He'd saved a reactor, saved the giant Junon cannon, saved goddamn President Shinra himself. For a week there, Reno had been the hottest shit the Turks had to offer.

His lips curled into a sneer that had become a fixture on his face.

It was true though, Reno mused, returning to his original line of thought. In the past months he'd gone above and beyond in his duties, had taken on extra shifts whenever he could. It was better than drinking himself to death, he'd decided after coming into work with a hangover for the fourth morning in a row. Or technically, Tseng had decided it for him. _Shape up or ship out_. As the latter wasn't an option for Reno, he'd chosen to sober up. As long as his head was preoccupied with work, he managed. Even if it meant being Scarlet's living, breathing fucktoy.

Reno ground his teeth and glared at some guy who was slow to step out of the Turk's way. The other man paled visibly and scurried in between two stalls.

Nobody would fight Reno anymore, not down here. He'd made a mess of too many people. Now they just bowed and scraped and got out of his way. Thank fuck his missions had gotten tougher. Veld and Tseng had given up on making him an interrogator and sent him to recruit for SOLDIER instead – usually with his fists and mag rod. He was partnered up with a massive bald guy called Rude on those jobs. Reno didn't know whether it was the guy's real name or someone's idea of a joke. He wasn't likely to get the answer out of Rude. The guy barely said a word to him.

Reno was still assigned to the Ancient, too. Those were the extra shifts he signed up for whenever he got the chance. If anyone asked, he told them he wanted to keep an eye on things below the plate, keep tabs on old contacts. No one had questioned it so far. In fact, he was pretty sure it had made him Veld's agent of choice for below-plate intel. It might even get him another raise.

Reno's sneer widened.

And sometimes... Sometimes he let himself get careless on the job, right before a surveillance shift. A black eye, a broken nose; something visible, impossible to miss. Aerith always offered to heal him. Reno always told her he was fine, and she always smiled and ignored his lie like he hoped she would.

Aerith was at the church that day, like she so often was. Reno hung back, watched her tend her flowers from the shadows. He never approached her at times like these; not when Scarlet's stink still clung to him.

One day the bitch in red would grow tired of him. One day he'd be free.

Reno scoffed quietly to himself. Free to do _what_ , exactly? Tseng would skin him alive if he thought Reno had touched Shinra's precious Ancient. Just talking to her was probably enough to earn him a solid beating.

Aerith leaned forward with one hand on the ground, reaching for something that was just out of her reach. Her body stretched out so gracefully, her luscious hair highlighted by the light that beamed in through the broken church roof. Bitterness welled up in Reno, acrid at the back of his throat. Why should he care what Tseng wanted? It wasn't as though Tseng gave a shit about him. The guy just whined about the state of Reno's suit. After the AVALANCHE incident, Tseng hadn't even bothered to do that. All he cared about was that the work got done.

What power did Tseng have under the plate, anyway? There were no security cameras, no Shinra guards. Reno was his eyes and ears down here. What Reno might neglect to mention in his report... Tseng would never know.

Maybe Reno should just go to Aerith. Maybe he should go to her right then and there and tell her she was prettier than all her flowers combined, and that the noodle bar in Wall Market was pretty good so maybe she would like to go there sometime. His treat, of course. She wouldn't say no to free food, even if it came from a Turk. Not when the Turk was Reno. She always smiled at him and laughed at his jokes and healed his wounds.

Reno straightened up. He smoothed out the front of his suit and pulled a hand through his hair. He took a deep breath of stale air, seeking courage in the frail scent of Aerith's flowers, and stepped out of the shadows.

The run-down ceiling splintered with an ear-splitting crash.

Reno swore and stumbled back into the dark, fumbling for his mag rod. He flattened himself against the pillar he'd been using for cover and peeked around it at the scene.

Aerith had jumped to her feet and was leaning forward at the edge of her flower patch, studying whatever it was that had crashed through the roof. Her forehead was creased with confusion and curiosity, but not fear. Best to hang back, Reno decided, shifting his hold on his weapon. Best to keep the element of surprise.

The flowers moved. A dark-haired head and broad shoulders rose up from the lake of white and yellow. Reno's mouth fell open. It was a _person_. A man in a SOLDIER uniform.

Even from behind, Reno recognized him: Zack Fair, First Class as of yesterday. More Mako-pumped brawn than brains. No wonder the meathead had survived a fall like that. Reno breathed out in a huff and loosened his grip on the mag rod.

Aerith struck up a conversation with the guy, and Reno was just close enough to hear every word. He snickered to himself when she pretended the idea of selling her flowers had never occurred to her, like she and he were sharing an inside joke only slummers would get. When she offered to walk with Fair, though, Reno felt his first twinge of uncertainty. As he trailed after them through the slums, those pangs only grew stronger. He watched Aerith back away from slum monsters he knew she could handle, just so the pumped-up knucklehead could sweep in with his oversized sword, as though he was saving the fucking day. Reno watched her smile and flirt.

_I feel so safe with you, Zack. You're so strong, Zack._

Soon enough, Reno got it. A Shinra SOLDIER. A man with a job that was admired and envied by Midgar's general population, a man with a steady paycheck. A golden ticket out of the slums, if she played her cards right.

As Reno watched them chat and joke around, the heavy knot beneath his ribs grew claws and dug them into his chest.

What had he expected, anyway? That a girl like her would go for a guy like him? Yeah, right. What was a Turk compared to the golden boys of SOLDIER? Didn't matter if he was the hottest shit the Turks had to offer. As far as the world was concerned, hot shit in a Turk suit was still shit.

The SOLDIER guy left at long last, but Reno stayed in the shadows. The end of his shift couldn't come soon enough.

When the end of it came, Reno was relieved of his duty like so many times before, as though it had been just another normal shift on another normal day. The closest train station was the same one Zack Fair had used to get above-plate. Reno refused to go near it. On his way to the neighboring sector, he passed a shady guy peddling some kind of clear drink. The smell of it made his eyes water. The taste was even worse. Reno walked away with a bottle in his hand.

By the time half of it was gone, someone called out to him.

"Hey, mister suit! Mind sharing some with a guy who's down on his luck?"

Reno squinted, willing his swimming eyes to focus on the man who was leaning against a wall in the gloomy light. He was able to make out a thin face, framed by stringy black hair, and a garish shirt which would have been a better fit for a tourist in Costa del Sol, had it not been stained and missing a couple of buttons.

"Sorry, pal." Reno waved his bottle in the air, sloshing the booze around. "This shit ain't free."

Reno gulped down another mouthful and grimaced as the booze burned its way down his throat. It may not have been free, but it sure as hell was cheap.

"I hear ya," the guy said with a wheeze of a laugh. "I'd buy a bottle myself if I had the gil, but, you know... Maybe I could give you something else in return."

"Like what? That fuck-ugly shirt you're wearing?" Reno barked out a laugh. "No thanks."

The guy's lips twitched in something like a smile. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, then stayed sandwiched between them as he looked Reno over. His almost-smile widened.

"Tell you what. I'll suck you off, if I can rinse it down with the rest of that bottle."

Reno felt a churning in his gut. Something else also stirred; lower, deeper.

No one was queueing up to suck his cock. He couldn't even remember the last time someone offered. It had been _his_ mouth on a cock last time.

His stomach lurched again. Reno raised the bottle and took a long, hard swig.

"Hey," the guy whined. "I won't do it if there's nothing left in that fucking bottle."

Someone was offering, now. Reno's so-called career may have turned him into one of the biggest lowlifes on the Planet, but at least it kept him out of the slums and stocked with all the vodka he could drink, unlike this sorry asshole. For a second he entertained the idea of just handing the bottle over and wishing the guy a good night, but the offer had lodged in some needy part of him. A mouth was a mouth, no matter whom it was attached to.

"Better make it quick, then."

The man narrowed his eyes, probably at Reno's tone, but with a flick of his head he indicated an alley a few feet away. The Turk stumbled into it, and as soon as he slumped back against the wall, the other guy dropped to his knees before him. Reno watched the guy unzip his pants and pull out his cock with the detached kind of fascination that was only possible after half a bottle of liquor. Would it feel any different, getting a blowjob from a man?

The guy knew what he was doing, Reno supposed, but it wasn't until he closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift to Aerith that he started to get hard. It was her lips he pictured as he felt the wet heat of a mouth swallow up his cock. He didn't touch the guy's hair – it was too short and greasy, and would have shattered the illusion. He kept his eyes shut and fantasized about Aerith's pink little mouth and her green eyes smiling up at him, until he blew his load down the throat of a stranger.

* * *

 

It took a week before Reno could make himself face Aerith again. Even though she smiled and chatted with him like before, the weight inside him would no longer lift. Reno spent more and more of his shifts out of her sight. She never mentioned it, during the times he was dumb enough to show his face. Maybe she didn't even notice. Why would she? Zack Fair kept her plenty of company, with his bulging muscles and his cocky SOLDIER ego.

Three months later Reno overheard Zack take Aerith's virginity. He didn't mean to; he just happened to be the Turk on duty when they slipped into the room behind the altar of the Sector 5 church. He wasn't able to get a clear line of sight without giving himself away, but he snuck close enough to listen in, like he was supposed to do. Standing in the shadows of a crumbling church pillar, he listened to their giggles and murmured conversation.

_I've never... you know._

_It's okay. I'll be gentle, I promise._

He listened as Aerith's moans turned into soft cries. By the time Zack's rhythmic grunts joined in, Reno's heart had gone as hard as his cock.

Emma showed up to relieve him before they had emerged from the back room. Reno was in dire need of a different kind of relief, though. He'd planned to duck into an alley and take care of it before catching the train up to the plate, but as he passed the seedy alleys of Wall Market, he remembered the blowjob he'd received in return for half a bottle of liquor. Disjointed glimpses of it, anyway. He remembered it had been simple and straightforward. Better yet... for once in his sorry life, Reno had been in charge.

Reno didn't have any booze on him this time, but he'd brought a wad of gil for emergencies. Thanks to Ruluf's bragging, he knew exactly where a Turk like him could get the best value for it. He headed straight to the Honey Bee Inn, rented a girl with long brown hair like Aerith's and made good use of all three of her holes.


	12. Swiftly Served

"I have a boyfriend."

Aerith's confession dropped out of the blue like lump of ice. Reno knew, of course, but he'd never heard her say it out loud before. He remained still and silent on his pew, kept his eyes fixed on her hands as she weeded her patch of flowers.

"His name is Zack Fair. He's a SOLDIER. Maybe you know him?"

Her voice barely changed pitch at the end, almost making it a statement instead of a question, but Reno heard it. An invitation to conversation, he presumed. _Yeah, I know him_ , she'd expect Reno to say. _We're all buddy-buddies at Shinra. What do you want to know?_

He said no such thing. He didn't even acknowledge it.

Aerith picked at some gangly stem that may or may not have been a weed. She'd been poking at the same plant for the past two minutes.

"He said he'd take me up to the plate next time. To some place called LOVELESS Avenue." Her laugh sounded brittle in the wide, empty space of the church. "Doesn't sound like a great place for a date, does it?"

"You'll be waiting a while, then. He's on leave. In Costa del Sol."

She turned away. Her hair was tied up with a pink ribbon. Reno wondered if it was the same one he'd seen Fair buy her the day they met. Why the fuck did she wear it every goddamn day? She wasn't going to get a ring from the guy with some fucking _ribbon_. Fair probably didn't even notice it. Too busy staring at her tits.

"So you've seen him?" Aerith asked. "Recently?"

She tried to make it sound casual. Reno saw right through it, and felt the darkness inside him swirl.

"Look, I hate to say this, but..." He waited until she looked back at him, compelled by curiosity, but her lovely eyes so large and wary. "Fair is a bit of a ladies' man. You shouldn't take everything he says too seriously."

It was true, Reno told himself. He'd seen Zack Fair flirt with the receptionists and secretaries at Shinra more than once. The man had even tried to sweet-talk a couple of the female Turks, Freyra had told him. Fair was an inveterate flirt – who knew what else he got up to with other women?

Yet as Reno watched Aerith's face fall, he couldn't have felt like a bigger creep.

* * *

 

Reno slouched outside the Shinra conference room on floor sixty-six. Through the open doors in front of him he saw President Shinra sitting at the end of a massive table. Scarlet was leaning on the table to the right, her upper body thrust forward as she spoke to the President. On the left stood an executive called Reeve Tuesti, with a sour look on his face. Scarlet's cackles carried through the doors to burrow into Reno's ears, but he was too far away to hear what the men were saying. Not that he gave a shit. He just wanted to have this meeting officially over with already, so he could grab a damn coffee.

He wasn't waiting alone. Next to him stood Alvis, one of the Turks' newest recruits, looking like a kid whose mother had forced him to wear a suit to a funeral. No wonder, really; the guy was a biker from slums, whom Reno had caught stealing from Shinra. Though Alvis had been doomed to lose that fight from the start, he'd put up a decent enough effort that Tseng had offered him a job. So far, he hadn't shown any signs of wanting revenge on Reno. Maybe this Alvis guy thought a job at Shinra was enough to make up for a few cracked bones.

Sorry bastard.

As Scarlet threw her head back and belted out another laugh, Alvis leaned closer.

"I heard you're getting some of that," he said under his breath, with a pointed look at her.

It was almost instinctive now, the way Reno turned the curl of his lip into a smirk.

"I might be."

"She as loud as this when she's getting fucked?"

"Louder."

"Ouch," Alvis snickered. "Might be worth it to watch those tits jiggle, though."

"I heard our man Reno's getting more than that, too."

They both turned to see Ruluf sauntering over from the elevators. He kept the top buttons of his shirt unbuttoned these days, just like Reno. Today the guy had decided to skip the tie, too. Just like Reno. A couple of years ago, it might have stroked his ego.

"A little bee told me they've been seeing a lot of you down at the Don's place," Ruluf added, smirking at Reno. He smirked a lot these days, too.

Reno smirked right back. "They might be."

Alvis didn't smirk. He chuckled, though the glance he cast Reno held something closer to awe. Once upon a time Reno might have been flattered by that, too.

"Know who else is getting some?" Ruluf asked. "Zack Fair. Word is he and Cissnei are going at it like fucking bunnies over in Costa."

Reno went perfectly still, his smug smile frozen on his face.

"You're shitting me," Alvis sputtered, but Ruluf shook his head.

"Heard it from Judet. Trust me, that woman never cracks a joke."

A tidal wave had spilled over Reno; its murky waters surged through his veins and thundered in his ears until it drowned out the conversation. _Cissnei_. First Aerith, and now fucking _Cissnei_?

In that moment, Reno knew he hated Zack Fair with his whole being.

He ordered Ruluf to take his place by the doors, then stalked down to a quieter floor and into an empty bathroom. There he hunched over the sink and glared holes in his own reflection in the mirror.

What made Zack Fair so fucking _special_? Why did this fucker get everything Reno could only dream about, with nothing more than a wink and a smile? All he wanted was one single goddamn day that wasn't a steaming pile of misery. Was that too much to ask for, since all he ever got was _fuck all_? All Reno got was to listen to Aerith pine after this _stupid_ meathead idiot, who was probably soaking up rays on the beach without a single thought spared for his so-called girlfriend, since he was fucking _cheating_ on her!

With a half-stifled cry, Reno kicked the tiled wall. The dull pain in his toes brought some sense back into his head. He needed to calm down, and calm down fast. He still had a couple of hours of work to get through.

He dove into one of the bathroom stalls, closed his eyes and pictured Aerith, the way he'd seen her when they'd first met. Smiling sweetly, glowing with magic. He thought of the tiny locks of hair that curled at her temples, damp from the effort of gardening. He thought of the way her eyebrows arched when she gave him a teasing look, of her soft-looking skin, of her pink little lips. And then, without meaning to, he remembered the breathless whimpers that slipped out of her when she was close to coming.

His thoughts hadn't calmed the blood pounding in his veins; they only sent it down south. Whatever, he could work with that. With his eyes still closed, Reno unzipped his pants and pulled out his rapidly hardening cock. Stroking his fingertips up and down the sensitive skin below his tip, he strained his memory to remember each one of her gasps, every soft moan. He licked his fingers, coating them in saliva, and closed his hand around his erection. As he slid his slick fingers down his shaft, he imagined sinking into her wet, eager pussy instead; as he pumped his fist back and forth he fantasized about moving inside her, teasing those tantalizing sounds out of her.

His cock was hot with need, still swelling. He groaned under his breath as he tightened his hold, stroked himself faster. She'd be moaning now, bucking her hips to meet his every thrust, inviting him to sink into her as deep as he could go. He would snap his hips hard, catching her by surprise and drawing a delicious little yelp out of her, and then she would beg him to do it again, and again, harder and _faster_ –

"Thinking about the slut in red, are you?"

Everything seemed to happen at once as Reno's eyes flew open. The hands on his lapels, yanking him out of the stall, shoving him against the sink. A hand in his hair and another on his cock, neither his own. And in the mirror, a face all screwed up with malice and hate, staring at him over his shoulder – a face he'd spent two years trying to forget.

Rufus Shinra's face.

"Heard you're fucking Scarlet now," the man growled in his ear. "Decided to pay you a personal visit. Wouldn't want you to forget _me_."

Reno stood transfixed, like a deer caught in headlights. His throat was closing up. He couldn't breathe. It couldn't be real. He was stuck in some sick fucking nightmare, he had to be.

"Did you honestly think I wouldn't find out?" Rufus hissed between bared teeth. "Did you think I'd just go away?"

The squeezing fist began to jerk up and down at a furious pace. The physical discomfort was enough to rattle Reno back to reality, but the second he tried to push himself away from the sink, the hand in his hair tightened and wrested his face back up to the mirror.

"Don't you fucking move," Rufus panted, squeezing Reno's cock tighter, "or I'll rip you fucking dick off. I can do anything I want with you, you little shit. I _own_ you. Without Shinra, you're _nothing_."

The hold on Reno's cock was too dry and tight to the point of pain, but he'd already brought his body too close to the edge. The brutal grip was enough to propel him past the point of no return, and with a whimpered sob he was coming, spraying the side of the sink with his seed as Rufus forced every last drop out of him.

Rufus released him, and Reno found his knees had turned to mush. His arms were too shaky to hold him up. He stumbled sideways, hitting the wall, and sank down until his ass hit the tiled floor. His mind was reeling, while his body was stuck in some messed-up post-orgasmic haze. He blindly pressed himself into the corner, instinctively seeking to put his back against a wall, and pulled his knees up toward his chest.

His mind barely registered the pleasured groan before something hot and wet spattered his forehead. He flinched back but he was cornered, couldn't pull away. More landed in his hair, on the hand he raised to shield his face. The thick liquid dribbled down his cheek and past his nose, clogging his nostrils with the smell of cum. It should have made him sick, but he didn't feel anything. His skin prickled and crawled, but he'd gone numb on the inside.

Mere seconds. Rufus Shinra had jacked him off in seconds.

How the fuck had that happened?

Had he forgotten to lock the stall door? How could he not have heard anything?

Where the hell had the asshole come from, anyway? Why had no one told Reno he was in Midgar?

He could feel slimy trails ooze down his face, stuffing up his nose with their musky stink. A deep, fierce mortification was searing through the numbness, burning him up from the inside out.

Why the _fuck_ hadn't he punched the fucker's teeth in when he had the chance?

"You sick fucking _freak_." Reno bit it out word for word, staring at his cum-stained hands.

"Watch your mouth, Turk." Rufus had returned to his icy disdain; only a slight breathlessness suggested anything unusual had happened. "Your ass belongs to Shinra. _I_ own your ass."

"You don't own Shinra. You don't own jack shit!" Reno kept staring at his hands, now balled into trembling fists. He couldn't look up at Rufus Shinra. He couldn't stand to see that smug fucking face.

He flinched again as something hit his arm and landed between his feet; a smeared wad of tissue paper. Rufus's laughter echoed off the tiled walls until Reno felt like he was surrounded by dozens of cackling bastards.

"Oh, please. It's only a matter of time before the old man meets his rightful end," Rufus said breezily as he walked away. "And when he does..."

The lights clicked off a second before the bathroom door slammed shut, leaving Reno in a pitch-black hole.


	13. Little White Lies

The air was thick with the stench of burnt flesh. Reno had tied a scrap of fabric over his mouth and nose, but it did little good. He had to stop and hack out soot from his lungs every two minutes. Something in his back twinged with every step, his hands were swollen red and stained black. He wasn't equipped for a mission like this, hadn't been properly prepared. None of them were.

For what seemed like hours, he'd clambered into blackened houses and rolled over charred bodies. Most of them were dead. The rest would have been better off that way. He'd done what he could with potions, until he ran out. The bald Turk, Rude, had stayed at the gathering spot for survivors with a Restore materia. It wasn't even mastered. They weren't prepared for this!

When a new group arrived on the scene, Reno's relief was strong enough to drop him to his knees. Here, at last, was the help these people needed.

Only it wasn't.

Five dirty, exhausted Turks had gathered around Hojo, the executive in charge of Shinra's science department. The freak babbled on about experiments and specimens, while the grief-stricken and the dying wailed in the distance. Reno stood there, gaping, until one of those screams finally pierced through the smog in his head and broke something inside.

"What the _fuck_?" The shrill words spilled out of his mouth, unhindered and uncontrolled. "What the fuck is this? You think a whole town can disappear just like that and no one's gonna ask questions?"

"We'll take care of it," Veld said. "Shinra will rebuild Nibelheim and make it a front for the science department."

Reno just stared at him, unable to comprehend how the man could speak with such calm. Hojo said something more before he left, but Reno wasn't listening anymore. He just stared at his chief, his slack hands shaking uncontrollably at his sides.

"I ain't doing this," he whispered, then again, louder. "I can't fucking do this!"

And then Tseng said something Reno would never have expected to hear from the man's mouth.

"This is too dirty."

Even Rude seemed to agree, in his own quiet way. Alvis, the rookie, stayed silent and looked from one Turk to another with empty, shell-shocked eyes.

If Tseng's words had shocked Reno, he couldn't believe his ears when Veld spoke.

"Fine. You're dismissed, all of you. Go back to Midgar."

Reno kept staring. His mind was too clouded by smoke and ashes to grasp this turn of events. It couldn't have been that easy. It just couldn't.

"I'll handle things from here," Veld added.

And of course, it hadn't been. The chief wasn't putting a stop to it; he was just letting them leave. He was expecting them to turn their backs on all those helpless people they'd dragged out of the ruins and just... walk away.

And that's exactly what Reno did. He turned around and scrambled over the ashen ruins toward the helicopter. He couldn't stand another second of this living hell that reeked of smoke and death and fear.

But the Planet had one more surprise for him. One last parting gift. As Reno stumbled past a line of people carrying stretchers toward the Shinra mansion, he spotted a familiar face among the victims they hauled.

Zack motherfucking Fair.

Stunned, Reno stopped to watch as the SOLDIER was carted past him and up toward the mansion, toward a fate worse than death. Reno watched, and he _smiled_.

* * *

 

The next day, Reno stood at the edge of Sector 5. The wind tugged at his open jacket, his untucked shirt. It tangled up his hair and bit into his chilled skin. The sun had set; the streetlights at his back glared so brightly that he felt like he was standing at the edge of an abyss. An inky blackness, dotted with faint pinpricks of light; as above, so below. The Turk stared past his toes at Midgar's gloomy undercity, and thought about disappearing.

How little it took, to vanish without a trace. If he were to fall right then and there, would anyone ever figure out what had happened? His things would be stolen, his remains picked clean by rats and bugs, his bones eventually buried under yet another layer of filth. One little misstep and he might disappear forever.

An updraft threw the stench of the slums in Reno's face. Refined Mako and human garbage in every conceivable form, all garbled together in some unholy union. He hadn't lived in it for years, the stench below. He'd have thought he would have washed the smell off of him by now. Yet the longer he stayed above the plate, the worse he seemed to stink. After Nibelheim... he wasn't sure he would ever be able to wash it off.

Ever since Rufus Shinra's fucked-up attack in the bathroom, Reno had kept tabs on that dick of a Vice-President. He was high enough on the Turk ladder to have some say in his missions, even got first dibs at times. He always picked the ones that would take him away from HQ, or wherever the Shinra brat happened to be stationed at the time. When the call had come about trouble in Nibelheim, Reno had been among the first to run to a helicopter.

He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He didn't keep them closed for long, though. His head was too full of the dead and the dying.

They'd done what they could. That was the worst part. They'd pulled over a dozen people from the ruins, brought them back from the brink of death – and then that freak in a lab coat had marched in, demanding to use the survivors in his fucking experiments.

And Reno had lost it. Just completely lost it, like some rookie on his first real job.

Reno inhaled another filthy lungful of the air seeping up from Midgar's underbelly. As gag-worthy as it was, it reeked more of the living than the dead.

And then there was Zack Fair. One of Professor Freak's unlucky guinea pigs, officially M.I.A. Another one of Shinra's dirty little secrets, swept under the rug by the Turks. That one, Reno could live with.

He wasn't smiling anymore, though. His surveillance shift was coming up. He'd have to face Aerith. He could always just stick to the shadows and avoid talking to her altogether – but he already knew he wouldn't. He needed her, like he needed the grungy air he was drawing into his lungs.

And she would ask about Fair. Reno just knew it. She'd ask about him, still pining for the guy. Waiting for him to return. For a second Reno was tempted to head straight down there and tell Aerith everything he knew, to spare her all the _pointless_ hope he knew she would cling to.

But only for a second. What good would it do her to know that her boyfriend had been locked away in some secret lab by Shinra's creepiest scientist? She'd only hate Shinra even more. She'd hate Reno, for everything he hadn't done when he had the chance. How would that make anything better?

No, Aerith didn't need the truth. What she needed was someone on her side, someone to look out for her. Her boyfriend had just vanished without a trace, after all.

After one last deep breath, Reno stepped back from the edge.

* * *

 

The nip in the air that had chilled Reno at the edge of the plate held more bite underneath, where the sun never warmed the ground during the day. Aerith wore a green sweater over her dress, so stretched out and faded that it must have been one of her mother's hand-me-downs. Despite the approaching winter, the flowers at her feet were still in full bloom.

She looked up as Reno approached her along the middle aisle of the rundown church. He tried to ignore the disappointment that shadowed the smile she gave him.

"And here I thought you Turks were meant to be dapper gents in swanky suits," she called once he was close enough to hear.

Reno looked down at himself. He'd ditched his stinking, sooty uniform at HQ and had changed into a spare one. He'd only buttoned half his shirt buttons; his hands had shaken too badly. And when he got home to his apartment, he'd collapsed on his couch, suit and all, and spent the whole day drifting in and out of terrible dreams. He hadn't bothered changing again when it was time for his shift. Despite the October chill, he hadn't even bothered zipping up his jacket.

"Thought I'd try something different," he said, falling back on the nonchalance he wore like a second skin these days. "You know, something a bit more me."

"A bit more 'lazy slob'?"

Her tiny smile had grown a little wider. Encouraged, Reno responded with a crooked one of his own.

"Hey, it's still a swanky suit. No self-respecting slob would wear a suit this nice."

"Oh, I don't know. A rich slob might."

"Well, that definitely rules me out."

Aerith didn't reply; she was looking over her shoulder. When she slowly turned back, scanning the dark corners of the church, her face held a strange expression, as though she was miles away.

"Hellooo?" Reno waved a hand in front of her face, pushing down the odd feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Ground Control calling Aerith."

She flinched, and just like that, she was back – sort of. She cast a couple more skittish glances over her shoulders, pulling her sweater tighter around herself.

"Hey," he called gently. "You okay?"

"Yeah... I just keep having this... this really _weird_ feeling–" She licked her lips and glanced around again. "Um... You haven't seen Zack lately, have you? Zack Fair?"

Reno stifled a scream of frustration.

"Nope," he lied. "Afraid not."

With a soft sound at the back of her throat, she reached up to rub her temples.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I must be getting a headache."

Would she be getting "headaches" over this guy if she knew what he'd gotten up to in Costa del Sol? If she knew how that asshole had treated her?

Reno's jaw was beginning to hurt. With a measured breath, he forced his teeth apart.

What good would it do to tell her about Fair and Cissnei? The guy was already gone for good. Telling her about his screwing around would only bring her down even more. Better to let her reach her own conclusions in her own time. Until then... Reno could prove himself the dependable guy Fair had never been.

"Hey, I was thinking... " Reno had to stop to gather his courage when she faced him, and disguised it by clearing his throat. "If you want, I could take you up to the plate some time. You know, to cheer you up? We could go to Sector 8. Check out LOVELESS Avenue, like you wanted."

Even as Aerith watched him speak, Reno could tell what her answer would be. It wasn't him she wanted with her at LOVELESS Avenue. It never had been.

"That's sweet of you, but I go up to eight all the time now." She dropped her gaze to the verdant patch at their feet. "To sell my flowers."

And to keep an eye out, Reno could read between the lines. To maybe catch a glimpse of her useless boyfriend.

"But if you want to cheer me up," she continued, sticking a hand into the large front pocket of her droopy sweater, "maybe you could deliver this for me?"

She held out a sheet of paper, folded up and closed with a piece of tape. The name Zack Fair was written on it in cursive handwriting. Reno felt his stomach sink all the down into the ground.

"Sure," he said, forcing a smile as he slipped it into his jacket. "I'll leave it on his desk."

He hoped it would be the last letter she left in his care. It wasn't.

Every week she gave him a new one. Reno took them with hollow promises, smiling a shark's smile, and handed them over to Tseng with his reports. Every time he hoped it would be the last. It never was.

But eventually the gap between letters grew longer; two weeks, then three. As her smiles grew weaker, Reno felt lighter. The latest letter had taken her more than a month to write, and Reno was preparing to soar in her presence again.

Then came the news that knocked him right back down to the ground.

Retrieval mission, Priority 1. Zack Fair was alive and on the loose.


	14. Joy Meets Sorrow

Reno stared through the helicopter windshield at the wasteland below. He kept his face blank, but on the inside he was seething. Here he was once again, scouring the Midgar wastes for a sign of the escaped SOLDIER. The mission had been upped to Priority S, and all Turks had been called in for the search.

Did Zack Fair have any fucking idea of how much shit he dumped on the people around him, simply by existing?

It had turned out the Turks' retrieval order wasn't sanctioned by the higher-ups. Tseng had acted on his own accord, turning the hunt for Fair into a race with Heidegger's military, and all of it for no reason Reno could understand. What he knew for sure, though, was that going against a direct order from the President could only land them all in a big steaming heap of shit. And what the hell were they supposed to do with Fair if they found him first, anyway?

When the first retrieval order had come through, Reno had dragged his feet, perfectly happy to never set eyes on that Fair asshole ever again. Now, though, he was looking in earnest. He had a pretty good idea of what he was going to do if he spotted the guy. He'd had months to plan it.

Motion amidst the dusty wastes caught his eye. It was a pickup truck, trundling along a worn road toward Midgar. As the helicopter came closer, he spotted two figures huddled in the back.

Two figures in SOLDIER uniforms.

Reno's heart thumped hard, spurred on by a rush of adrenaline, but he kept himself under control and cast a surreptitious glance at his co-pilot. All he could see was the back of Rude's bald head, sandwiched between a bulky headset. The man was focused on his side of the chopper, just as they had agreed.

Reno slid out his PHS and thumbed out a brief message with one hand – coordinates, heading, a short description of the vehicle – and sent it to one of his contacts. An infantry officer, eager to make a name for himself. Catching a SOLDIER on the run ought to get the man a promotion – and rid the world of one of Reno's biggest headaches in one fell swoop. He glanced at Rude again as he slipped the PHS back into his pocket; the man was still staring out his side of the helicopter and seemed none the wiser.

Two hours later Tseng radioed the news. Zack Fair had been found by Shinra's troops. Upon resisting arrest, he'd been shot to death.

Mission complete.

* * *

 

The next day, Reno sat on a rickety pew, surrounded by the scent of flowers and musty earth. Aerith kneeled by her plants a few feet away. She'd hiked her pink dress up above her knees to keep it safe from the dirt. Reno ignored the worn, oversized boots she wore and let his gaze rest on her supple calves. His fingers tingled with the need to touch them. He'd gotten good at ignoring that, too.

His shifts with Aerith were the only moments of peace he got these days. The Turks were on President Shinra's shit list, and Scarlet had turned on them to improve her standing with the big boss. Rumors of terminations and disbandment ran so wild that most of the Turks had taken to meeting up outside of HQ. Orders were issued in shady bars, debriefs were held in diners. All this would have been fine with Reno, had it not been for the constant threat of being rounded up by a horde of infantry grunts in the middle of the night. Shame he couldn't take the credit for Fair's death to protect himself. Tseng would roast him alive.

With a quiet gasp, Aerith raised her head, her hand frozen an inch from the weed she'd been reaching for. She stared across the flower patch for several seconds, even though there was nothing there except a crumbling pillar.

She'd been distracted and jittery all afternoon. Reno hated seeing her like that, constantly looking over her shoulder as though haunted by something she couldn't see. She used to be so different, back before Fair had crashed into her life.

Fucking Zack Fair. He was gone, for good this time; yet Reno felt no relief. He was struggling with the urge to tell Aerith everything he knew. No one could have been more surprised by this than Reno. What had made him grow a conscience _now_ , of all times?

But as he gazed at Aerith's wan face, he knew the answer. It wasn't about him coming clean. She could never know about his involvement, but she deserved to know what had happened to her long-lost boyfriend. She had waited and wondered for far too long.

"Look, Aerith... There's something I gotta tell you. It's about Zack Fair."

Her hand, still reaching for a forgotten weed, began to tremble. She pulled it into her lap and sat back on her heels, hiding it under her other hand.

"I don't want to hear it."

Reno wanted to leave it at that, he really did. But he couldn't. With a sigh, he pushed himself off the pew. She didn't look up as he came up beside her and dropped down on one knee.

"I... I really think you should."

"No, don't," she mumbled. "Please. I don't want to know." She was looking over her shoulder, and seemed to barely be listening to him as she scanned the church wall.

Reno wet his lips and tried again.

"It's impor–"

Aerith grabbed his head and silenced him with her lips. He froze, so utterly stunned that it didn't even occur to him to kiss her back. He stared at her dumbly as she drew back a bit, her eyes as huge as his.

"Wha–"

He didn't get any further before she mashed her mouth against his again.

"Don't talk," she whispered against his lips. "Please."

His head was a jumble of chaotic thoughts. One caught on, rose above the others. Aerith had stopped writing the guy letters some time ago. What if... What if she was finally over him?

Reno closed his eyes and let himself drift into the moment. He inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of flowers and earthy soil that clung to her. He slid his arms around her, covered her mouth with his, deepened the kiss. The soft noise she made deep in her throat was the final crack in the dam; years of pent-up lust burst free like liquid heat in his veins. He pulled her close, crushing her to his chest, and lost himself in her taste and her scent. Her body felt so _right_ against his, her breasts so soft and tantalizing. He brought his hands to her front, fumbling with the buttons on her dress, but she grasped his wrists, pushed them away.

He drew back, his gaze both a wordless plea and apology, his frail hope already sinking – but instead of getting up and away, she lay down on her flowers. He stared, mouth open and dry, as she pulled up the hem her dress until her white cotton panties came into view. Her thighs were trembling, her chest heaving with shallow breaths. He glanced up at her; she was watching him, her cheeks pink and her eyes nearly closed, _waiting_.

His heart was drumming the wildest beat; his cock was straining against his underwear, harder than it had been in years. Ever so gently, he brushed his hands up her thighs. Slowly, carefully, he hooked his fingers under the fabric of her panties and slid them down, revealing her triangle of soft little curls. Down and down he pulled them; she bent her legs and raised her hips, helping him lay her bare. He paused to tug off her boots, then slipped her underwear all the way off.

Reno grasped her knees, urged them apart. He gazed down at her, traced every dip and curve with ravenous eyes as she spread her legs for him. It felt like a dream. It _had_ to be a dream, but her skin was so smooth and warm and _real_ beneath his hands.

And even if it was a dream... he'd take it.

He pressed his lips to the side of her knee. He began to kiss his way down her thigh, but he hadn't even gotten halfway before he felt her hands tugging on his shoulders. He looked up at her face, but couldn't catch her eye – she was looking at his lips. She pulled on his jacket again, and he gave in, crawled up along her body until he was settled in between her legs. She drew his face to hers, and as he kissed her, he felt her hands wander down to undo his belt.

_This is really happening_ , his muddled brain screamed at him. _She really wants you!_

Tseng would kill him – but with Aerith's supple body beneath him and her gentle hands pulling at his clothes, Reno didn't give a single flying fuck about Tseng.

He leaned back far enough that he could undo his pants and yank them down to his knees, then descended upon her for another hungry kiss. He lowered his hips, and as his throbbing cock touched her bare skin it sent such a jolt through him that it blew his thoughts to smithereens. For a moment, he even forgot how to breathe.

He rolled his hips, groaning into their kiss as he felt her folds spread for his stiff cock. He stroked back and forth, his whole body humming with lust-fueled adrenaline. She wasn't as wet as he'd expected, though. He broke the kiss and pulled back for a better look at her. Her hair had come loose from its braid and had spread out around her flushed face, all tangled up with the flowers beneath her. Her eyes were squeezed shut.

"Hey," he said softly. "Are you–"

Aerith pulled him down and smashed her lips to his. She wrapped a leg around his hips and angled her own, bringing the head of his cock right up to her entrance.

She wanted him. Sweet, wonderful Aerith actually wanted _him_.

A broken whimper snuck out of Reno's throat as he sank into her warmth. She felt so soft, so fragile in his arms, and for one petrifying second he was terrified he might hurt her in some way. But her sigh sounded like contentment to him, and she tilted her hips up to meet him. Encouraged, he thrust into her again.

"Faster," she gasped.

He did as she asked, and as his pace quickened, something primal took hold and diluted his fears. Their breaths followed the rhythm of their hips as they moved together, seeking a higher level of bliss. This was nothing like Scarlet or the Honeybees or any of the other women he'd had. He couldn't get enough of the scent of her skin or the feel of it under his lips. He kissed her jaw, her neck, her shoulder; everything he could reach. He caressed her thighs as he rocked between them, worshipped them in touch like he'd worshipped her with his eyes for years and years. He wanted to give her as much joy as she was granting him.

He shifted his weight onto one arm so he could reach down between them, but before he got even close, she pushed his hand away with her own. His pace faltered, but she slid her hand in between their bodies and started rubbing in quick, short strokes.

"Don't stop," she panted. "Harder!"

What Aerith wanted, he would give her. She was getting louder, gasping faster. He pumped into her with swift, sharp snaps of his hips, urged on by her high-pitched yelps. Was she responding to him, or was he trying to match her? He didn't know and he didn't care. He was desperately trying to stay ahead of the bliss that was swelling inside of him, straining to burst free. He wanted her to have her pleasure first, wanted so badly to give her this one good thing. He gritted his teeth, trying to stave off the inevitable, caught between the demands of her body and his–

Aerith bucked up in a rigid arch, crying out as she squeezed his cock in an _amazing_ pulsing rhythm; as though her body was egging him on, begging him to come with her. Reno couldn't hold back any longer. Swept away by the force of his own pleasure, he drove himself in to the hilt with a hoarse cry, instinctively grinding deeper as he spilled his seed within her.

For a while they lay still, cheek to cheek, all tangled up in each other. Reno savored the feel of Aerith's body underneath him as he waited for his senses to return to him. He memorized the way her breasts pressed against him with every panted breath, _relished_ the feel of her silky heat embracing his softening cock.

When he tried to kiss her, though, Aerith pushed at his shoulders with an urgent whimper. The moment he raised himself onto his knees, she rolled away and got up. She snatched up her panties from the ground, and kept her back to him as she pulled them on. He frowned, feeling the warmth of his joy ebb away.

"So, uh... Was it good for you?"

As soon as his words were out, Reno cringed. If you had to ask, you did it wrong, he could hear himself mocking others. But he'd tried, hadn't he? He'd been ready to go down on her, to please her with his fingers. And she'd come, he was sure of that.

"I have to get back," she said, shoving her feet into her old boots. "It's dinner time." Her back was still turned, but she sounded pretty normal, if a bit breathless.

"Hang on, give me a sec." Reno struggled to his feet, trying to tug up his pants at the same time. "I'll walk you home."

"And risk having mom see me come home with a Turk?" Her voice was too thin for the teasing tone. "No way. She wouldn't let me out of the house for a month."

"Okay," he said to her back as she took off toward the church doors. By the time it occurred to him to add a _whatever_ , it was too late to say it.


	15. Revenge, Served Cold

Distracted and jittery, Reno made his way to his topside apartment. His head was fizzing with memories of Aerith's panted breaths and the feel of her body in his arms – but they were sullied by confusion and concern. Why would she draw him in only to ditch him in a heartbeat? Was it something he'd done? Something he hadn't done? His mind preoccupied, he entered his apartment without so much as a cursory glance at the place. He kicked the door shut and marched into the living room, reaching for the light switch–

The TV flashed to life. Reno froze and stared at the screen, his fingers still on the switch he hadn't flipped. A silent, grainy video showed a room, filmed from a ceiling corner. A table in the middle of it, cupboards and shelves along one wall, a countertop with a coffee machine. The Turks' breakroom.

Reno felt himself go cold as a figure limped into view and pulled a box from one of the shelves. He wanted to look away as a second figure arrived on the scene, but he couldn't. The chill crept all the way to his fingers and toes as he watched himself grab Cissnei and choke her out. He could see her face as he forced her down on the table, saw it contort with fear and pain as she came to again. Saw his own face, twisted with such rage that he didn't even recognize himself. But it was him, he knew it was.

The footage paused for a second, just as she'd opened her mouth to scream. There was no sound, but he could still hear that agonized scream as he forced himself on her, echoing through his head. Bile rose in the back of his throat.

The screen blinked, returned to an empty room. Reno's stomach lurched when he saw himself stumble in again. He tore his eyes from the screen, searching desperately for the remote. That's when he saw her.

Cissnei sat in the corner of his couch, its dark upholstery acting as the perfect camouflage for her Turk suit. One arm rested on the back of the sofa, the other in her lap. The screen's flicker reflected off something metallic by her thigh; the barrel of a gun, equipped with a silencer and pointed at him.

"On your knees," she said, her voice as cold as his face. "Hands on your head."

Mutely, he dropped down. It was harder to obey her second command; his shaking arms had trouble going where they were supposed to.

"How does it feel," she sneered, "to see yourself on TV?"

Reno couldn't find a single word inside his head, so he just shook it slowly instead.

"What, you don't like it? I thought you'd be proud. Isn't that how piece of shit rapists like you feel afterwards?"

"I'm not... I never meant–" The words didn't feel right coming out of his mouth. His lips had gone numb. "I would have been good to you."

"You call _that_ ," she stabbed a finger toward the muted screen, "being good to me?"

He stared helplessly at the screen as his black-and-white self once again slammed Cissnei's face into the table. How could everything have gone so wrong? He'd _wanted_ to be good to her, once. He _would_ have been good to her... but she never gave him the chance!

"You know who was good to me?" she asked, her voice dripping with spite. "Zack Fair."

Reno fingers curled instinctively at the mention of that name, digging into his scalp. The bite of his fingernails helped him find his way out of his daze.

"He's dead, you know," she continued. "Shot by the infantry. They didn't find him, though. That was someone else. Someone who tipped them off, told them where he was. But you already knew that too, didn't you?"

Reno went still, then slowly looked over at her face. She was glaring at him with a whole new level of hatred.

"Because it was you." Her nostrils flared as she drew in a steady breath. "Everything I did to find him and keep him alive – all of it for _nothing_ , because _you_ ratted him out!"

This was an accusation he could comprehend, a threat he could respond to. His Turk instincts returning, Reno began to take stock of his situation. She was armed, and she had him figured out. Was she here to arrest him? She had evidence – but evidence of something that happened years ago. Why show him that fucking surveillance video _now_?

"Why?" she asked, unwittingly echoing his unspoken question. "Why did you do it? So you could fuck his so-called girlfriend?"

And just like that, his thoughts unraveled again.

"You think she cares about you?" Cissnei laughed, cold and brittle like ice. "She couldn't wait to get out of there. She couldn't even stand to look at you!"

"No, that's not–"

"Oh please, it was plain as day! So what did you do to her, huh? Did you shove it the wrong hole? Did you do to her what you did to me, you slum rat _filth_?"

Reno's mouth fell open. "You were there," he whispered.

"Yeah, I was there. Got the pictures to prove it." She smiled with no trace of humor. "I wonder what Tseng would say if he saw them. One of his trusted Turks, screwing Shinra's priceless Ancient. That's got to be the worst scandal since dear old Balto's... 'misconduct'."

"Blackmail," he mumbled, dropping his gaze to his knees.

"Yes... Or that's what I had in mind when I came here." Her eyes darted to the grainy footage on the TV screen. "Now though... maybe I'd rather just see you _burn_."

Reno found it harder and harder to breathe as the rising panic dug its claws into his chest. He hadn't heard a peep from her since Balto's attack. He'd barely glimpsed her at all in the years since. For all intents and purposes, he'd considered everything that happened between them buried in the past.

As soon as Reno thought it, he realized what a fool he'd been. Was Rufus Shinra in the past for him? Wouldn't he tear that asshole of a vice president to fucking _pieces_ , if he thought he could get away with it?

Cissnei could get away with it, and she knew it. Reno was well and truly fucked.

No, wait. She'd meant to blackmail him. Maybe she hadn't sent anything to anyone yet. She wouldn't have had the time. Network connections were lousy below plate, too slow for uploads. Trains ran far apart in the evenings; she must have caught the same one up as him, then raced to his place to set her trap. Reno might still have a chance.

He shifted his feet slowly, bracing his toes against the floor.

"Maybe I'll show this to your precious Aerith while I'm at it," Cissnei hissed. "Once she sees what you really are, she'll never want anything to do with you again."

Reno looked up, feeling a darkness swirl into his desperation. Her head was angled away from him; she was watching the screen, her teeth bared in a hateful grimace.

He lunged. Cissnei fired her gun before she even moved her head; he felt a searing pain tear through his side, but his speed was too great to be stopped by a bullet. He slammed into her, knocking the gun out of her hand, but she reacted quickly and used the force of his impact to shove him over the edge of the couch. His shoulder slammed into the floor first, igniting a blaze of pain through his wounded body, but he managed to roll away and over onto his side. He fumbled for his mag rod, got a grip on the handle, but before he could extend it, Cissnei landed a kick on his wrist. His weapon tumbled out of his fingers and in under the couch. He spat a curse, already moving, rolling out of the way of her second kick – but toward her, in under her leg. He threw his fist into her knee; a hasty, sloppy punch, but hard enough to knock her off balance. She yelped and tried to hop back, but he caught her ankle and she fell.

The couch broke her fall and she rolled away before he could get a proper hold of her. She ended up on her front, reaching for the gun on the floor. Ignoring the pain pulsing through his gut, Reno pulled his legs under him, just enough to launch himself at her again. He landed on her back, grabbed her outstretched arm and yanked – but she turned it against him once again, using his strength to drive her elbow into his ribs. Reno gasped in pain; her arm slipped out of his grip and she bucked up, trying to shove him off as she crawled forward. He frantically blinked the dancing spots out of his eyes – just in time to see her fingers wrap around the pistol's grip.

Reno didn't think; he acted. He grabbed her head, twisted to the left. Bone crunched against bone and she went limp like a ragdoll.

Seconds passed as his brain struggled to catch up with what must have been less than a minute. He let her go and tried to get up, but a sudden bout of vertigo kept him on his knees. A warm, wet gush was pouring out of his side; he flattened his palm over the wound and pressed down, grinding his teeth against the pain. The air was thick with the coppery tang of blood, filled with harsh breathing and pained, half-stifled grunts.

_His_ harsh breaths. Cissnei hadn't moved.

"Oh shit," he whispered. "Cissnei?"

Reno grabbed her shoulder and rolled her over. Her head remained still, facing away from him; he grasped her chin and pulled it toward him. Her skin was so warm and smooth under his fingertips as he slid his hand up to her cheek.

"Ciss?"

She stared up at the ceiling, as unheeding of his pleas in death as she had been in life.

Reno slumped back, bumping against the seat of the couch. His limbs drooped to the floor, heavy and dull. The wound in his side prickled sharply, in a body too drained to react. His eyes were tingling, too. A longing he'd thought was long dead and buried was bubbling to the surface.

He'd cared about her, once. He would have wanted to be good to her... but she never wanted him.

A flurry of motion drew Reno's eye. He glanced at the screen, just in time to see himself grab her all those years ago. What if he'd never done that? If he'd just let her walk away that time, would she now be lying lifeless on his living room floor?

Was that what a good person would have done? Swallowed their hurt and their pride and just let her go, rather than hurt her in return?

Reno stared into Cissnei's unseeing eyes as his mind bombarded him with questions too painful to answer.

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, then pushed himself to his feet with the aid of the couch. What-ifs were useless. He'd made his fucking mess already. Now he needed to clean it up.

Reno stumbled into the bathroom with his hand pressed into his side. As soon as he'd opened the door, he slumped against the door frame and hissed out a curse between gritted teeth. The cupboard over the sink was open and his first aid box lay empty on the floor. Maybe the potions were still somewhere in his apartment, but he didn't have time to look for them.

He limped back through the living room and into the kitchen, leaving a spattering of red dots in his wake. One of the drawers contained a roll of duct tape; he wrapped several layers around his waist, sealing up the hole in his gut.

Back in the living room, he found the remote on the couch, right where she'd been sitting. With one click of a button the screen went dark. The whole room plunged into a merciful darkness, allowing him to finally _think_.

Cissnei always had a plan B, but that was before the Turks ended up on the President's shit list. None of them had full access to Turk resources anymore. Besides... how much of this had she planned, anyway? She couldn't have known she'd land that kind of blackmail material that evening. Reno himself hadn't known, for fuck's sake.

Worrying about backup plans was pointless, anyway. Cissnei was... dead. By his hand. That was the mess he needed to worry about. Reno dropped down on the couch, clutching his head as though that might help him cage the right thoughts within the chaos of his mind.

She was supposed to be underground, like so many of the other Turks. With any luck, none of the others would miss her for weeks, maybe months. All he had to do was get rid of the body.

It was late, already dark outside. Most of the people in his building were obedient Shinra office drones, used to early nights in order to rise and shine at dawn. The rest weren't the kind to ask questions. Reno was smarter now than his eighteen-year-old counterpart; he'd learned where the cameras were. He had a good chance of getting Cissnei to the elevator and down to the garage unseen. He could take her down to the slums, dump her in the sewers. The mutant rats, bugs and monsters would tear her apart before dawn. No one would ever find all the pieces.

Cissnei's face was highlighted by the green glow of the nearest Mako reactor, seeping in through a gap in the curtains. She still seemed warm and soft, as though she was only resting. His stomach turned as he stared at her, picturing her skin raked by fangs and claws. No, not the slums. Too many potential witnesses, anyway.

The Midgar wasteland. No one ever went into the wastes unless they had to.

Reno dragged himself back to the kitchen. A different kind of emergency kit was hiding under the sink, containing a couple of syringes. He took out the red one and stabbed a dose of hyper into his thigh. The heat of it rushed through his veins, dousing him with an artificial burst of energy and drowning out the pain until it was nothing more than a dull thudding in his side. He'd regret it tomorrow... but that was tomorrow's problem.

He returned to the living room with a roll of black trash bags. He kneeled next to Cissnei and stroked her hair one last time. He felt an urge to say sorry, but swallowed it down. What fucking good would an apology do her now?

He tore off a bag instead and pulled it over her head.


	16. Acts of Desperation

The ache that pulsed through Reno's stomach throbbed hotter by the minute. His throat felt like sandpaper, but he'd used the last of his water to rinse the dirt off his hands. Worst of all, though... the hyper was wearing off. He'd felt the edge of it slip away as he was shoveling back the dusty soil he'd dug up. By the time Cissnei's body was fully hidden from the world, he'd been shaking and dripping with sweat. He was still sweating, despite the air-conditioned car; a cold sweat that made his shirt stick to his clammy back. He'd had the foresight to bring a change of clothes and more duct tape to cover the hole in his gut with a fresh layer, but if he didn't make it back to Midgar soon, none of that would matter. He needed healing. He needed Aerith.

Reno pushed down the gas pedal, blinking away the persistent blur at the edges of his vision.

It was no use driving through the crowded, trash-riddled slum streets to the Sector 5 church. Reno left his car at the outskirts of Midgar and paid one of his more reliable contacts to keep an eye on it. As he stumbled through Sector 5, it occurred to him that he didn't actually know if Aerith was at the church. She usually was, at this time of day and week, but after the previous evening... Reno swallowed hard, remembering the way she'd turned away from him. He could still hear Cissnei's mocking voice, ringing in his ears, telling him what a fool he was.

He couldn't even call and check. Ever since the trouble with President Shinra and the executives began, surveillance jobs like the Ancient had fallen by the wayside. As far as Reno knew, he was the only one who had stuck to his shifts.

 _You think she cares about you?_ Cissnei's voice echoed through his head. Reno gritted his teeth against the memories, against the pain in his side, and tried to hasten his faltering steps.

His knees nearly gave out from relief as he stumbled in through the church doors. Aerith was kneeling by her flowers, wearing that old, green sweater of hers over a blue dress. Was it that chilly? Reno didn't feel cold – his skin was hot and tight, as though his insides were full of molten lava.

She didn't look up as he approached, or when his knees really did buckle and forced him down on the nearest pew.

"Aerith," he choked out. "Please..."

She finally glanced his way. Her eyes grew wide with surprise as they traveled across his body, until she shot to her feet and hurried over to him. She didn't say anything, just lifted his jacket and gently pushed up his shirt. Reno glanced down; blood was already seeping through the duct tape, staining his white shirt. How much had he lost? Too much, judging by the way his head was spinning.

Reno raised his gaze to Aerith's face. Her eyes were aimed down, following her fingers as they brushed over his taped waist. Even in the dimness of a church tucked away deep under the plate, they seemed brighter than the leaves of her flowers. He'd never seen eyes so vividly green on anyone else.

A glow from below cast her face in a different shade of green. With a sigh of both relief and contentment, Reno closed his eyes as she called on her magic and let her wondrous warmth embrace him, like so many times before. It pooled in his wound and soothed the searing twinges into a dull pulse, then a soft tingling. He expected her to keep going until even that had faded into nothing – but without warning, she stopped.

Reno let his eyes drift open. Aerith's hand was still raised, hovering over his belly, but her face was tilted away from him, her eyes distant as though she was somewhere else. Slowly, her forehead creased to a frown.

"How did you get hurt?" Her voice trembled as she looked at him, her eyes huge and wary. "What did you do?"

Her question cut through him like an icy blade, colder than his shivering limbs.

"Wha... What do you mean?"

She stayed silent and flinched away from him, clambered to her feet. Her face was angled away again. It wasn't the first time she'd seemed distracted – now and then she would withdraw from him, like something else was drawing her attention – but she'd never recoiled from him like that, as though she could hear all the sordid memories in his head.

"Turk business," he blurted out, startled by his paranoid thought. "Can't talk about it."

For every second of silence, his chest felt a little tighter. He longed to reach out to her, to draw her into his arms and soak up her comforting warmth once again – but the look on her face kept him pinned to the crumbling bench he sat on.

"I think you should leave," she whispered.

If her question had been a blade, this one smashed down on him like a hammer. Only one word fell from his numb lips.

"Why?"

She didn't answer, just took another step back.

"No, wait," he called, struggling to his feet despite the dizziness. "Please, just let me– Look, we can both leave!" He was rambling, blurting out whatever popped into his head, but as soon as he'd said those words, they felt so _right_. "We could go to... Hell, I don't know, Costa? Wutai? Wherever you want. I've got some gil saved up. It ain't much, but it's enough to leave this stinking shithole together, make a new start. Somewhere nice, where the sun shines and the air smells good and... and you can have a proper garden. A big one! A... a farm!"

Aerith just stood there, watching him with a frown, while his desperation echoed through the empty church. As his final words died out, she lowered her gaze. Her measured breath slowly filled the silence, until Reno wanted to scream.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "What happened last night... should never have happened at all."

His breath whooshed out of him like she'd punched him in the gut. How could she say that? How could she just stand there, after all these years, and call him a _mistake_?

She didn't look up as she walked past him. A torrent of hurt washed over him; he wanted to grab her, to squeeze her tight until she'd yield and _let him_ _in_ – but a vision of Cissnei's lifeless face flashed before his eyes, sharp and jagged enough to slice through his rapidly clouding mind. Reno cringed. He swallowed down his hurt, and kept his trembling fists at his side as he watched Aerith leave.

* * *

 

The next week, President Shinra and the executive board decided to disband the Turks. Veld was executed, by Tseng, in a desperate bid to save all their lives. It was a ruse, though, which left Veld free to play daddy with his long-lost daughter. Most of the Turks took the chance to scatter far and wide. Reno considered it, but found it pointless. One hellhole was as good as another.

A week after that, one of Midgar's Mako reactors went up in a fiery inferno. Suddenly the Turks were back in Shinra's favor, tasked to hunt down the AVALANCHE terrorists responsible for the strike. Too bad most of the Turks had already vanished for good. Whether on their own accord or by Scarlet's hand, Reno didn't know. He couldn't make himself care either way. What should have been a huge relief – it was the perfect cover for Cissnei's disappearance, after all – didn't make him feel much of anything.

Days passed. He only noticed because each one flung more shit onto the giant turd heap that was Shinra. Only Reno, Rude and Tseng were left to do the President's bidding, and the workload pushed all three of them beyond their limits. No one had time for Reno. He didn't have time to think. It suited him just fine. He worked until he was ready to pass out from exhaustion. The scant hours of sleep he got gave him little rest.

The situation changed the President's priorities. One dreary December morning, the day after another reactor had gone up in flames, Reno found himself tasked with bringing the Ancient into custody.

He stared at the open file on his desk, at the black-and-white picture inside. It must have been taken in the past couple of years, because he couldn't remember seeing it when he was first assigned to her. Aerith wasn't looking at the camera, probably had no idea she was being photographed. Her long hair was tied into a ponytail with a drooping bow. It was impossible to tell what color it was, just that it was some light shade. The pale blue ribbon, perhaps... or that fucking pink one. He studied her image, waiting – but nothing stirred in the void inside.

He brought a few soldiers with him to the church. She was quick and crafty, after all, and might have a few surprises up her sleeve.

Nothing could have prepared Reno for the surprise he found, though.

Aerith, flirting with a SOLDIER that had fallen into her life out of nowhere. It wasn't so much a sense of déjà vu; more like one of those repeating nightmares.

The guy's spiky hair was blond, though, not black like Fair's. He was shorter, too, and skinnier. The more Reno studied him, the more the back of his neck prickled. Nothing about the guy added up. His uniform sported First Class colors, but he sure wasn't one of them – yet his eyes gleamed Mako blue, impossible to miss and difficult to explain away. A deserter, maybe? But that only raised more questions.

The situation only got worse when the pair noticed Reno's little squad. The SOLDIER guy started posturing, spouting things that made little sense. Reno called out to Aerith and tried to catch her eye, hoping she'd take the hint and step back from the weirdo. Instead she glared at the soldiers at his back. She backed away from them all, pleading with the guy to protect her, and the two of them ran into the back of the church. It was over in seconds.

Reno shoved a hand through his hair, feeling a headache coming on. He wanted nothing more than to drag himself into the closest bed and sleep for a week. Couldn't be helped, though. The job had to be done.

"Alright, back to work," he snapped at the soldiers. He marched for the back door in a straight line, but as he trampled Aerith's flowers under his boots he felt a flicker of emotion; an unexpected regret that lurched in his belly. How many hours of work had he seen her put into them? And that sweet floral scent, mingled with the grassy smell of crushed stems and disturbed earth, just like that time...

"And don't step on the flowers," he added over his shoulder.

The soldiers' jeering instantly made him regret his warning. He hurried on, clenching his jaw. If only the assholes knew just how much more he'd done on top of these flowers.

The rest of the mission was a farce. The soldiers proved utterly useless, forcing Reno to report the most pathetic failure of his career before a stone-faced Tseng.

"I see," the man said, betraying no emotion. "That complicates our next move."

"How so?"

"We have located the AVALANCHE terrorists. They operate out of a slum dive in Sector 7."

"So we've got to go round them up," Reno concluded tiredly, rubbing his eyes.

His boss was silent a moment, long enough for him to look up in confusion.

"The President has ordered something more decisive. A show of strength, if you will. We will drop the sector plate and crush the terrorists in their own headquarters."

It took Reno several seconds to grasp what Tseng was saying.

"Seriously? The whole _sector_?"

The man nodded once. "However, we must secure the Ancient first. Considering the _importance_ of the task, I will see to it personally. As for the terrorists..."

Reno was too caught up in his thoughts to pay any mind to Tseng's little reprimand, still struggling to wrap his head around the news. Sector 7 had never been his turf, neither below the plate or above, but he knew it well enough. One of the poorer districts, by both by slum and topsider standards. Nothing noteworthy in terms of commerce or industry. A residential district, mostly. A sector full of homes and schools and family restaurants.

And much to his surprise, Reno found that he didn't care. He was too tired to care. He was tired of this cesspool of a city. He was tired of the President and the board of executives and the whole fucking company.

"I'll do it," he heard himself say. "I'll drop the plate."

He was so fucking tired of everything.


	17. A Waking Nightmare

Reno's eyes drifted open. He didn't particularly want them to, though he wasn't sure why. It was too hard to figure that out. He felt like he was floating on a cotton cloud, with more cotton stuffed in his ears and his nose and his brain...

As he blinked sluggishly, trying to adjust to the dim light, bits and pieces of memory returned to him... and the cotton swaddling his head turned into a suffocating shroud. While everything seemed distant and hazy at the edges, one fact could not be denied. Against all odds, against all the divine justice in the world... he was still alive.

Reno moved his head, very very slowly, because every damn muscle in his body was achingly stiff. Needles were stuck in his arms, pumping an assortment of liquids into him. The rest of his body was covered by a white sheet. Bright white, not a speck of blood. That struck him as strange. Of course there wouldn't be blood, not in a proper hospital with proper doctors and potions and materia, but he remembered blood. A _lot_ of blood, coating his hands and soaking through his clothes, pouring out of holes torn open by a spray of bullets.

It was so quiet. That was strange, too. Beyond the beeps and clicks of the machinery he was hooked up to, he could hear distant murmurs and muted squeaks, like rubber soles on linoleum or the faulty wheel of a gurney. Mundane sounds, safe and unremarkable. After what he'd done, he would have thought every hospital in Midgar would be full of screaming.

Had there been any screaming? He'd expected screaming, lots of it, had filled his head with all these shrill, terrified voices as he pictured the plate going down. Instead everything had been drowned out by a single ear-splitting screech; a hellish noise straight out of bad trips and fever dreams, wailed by the plate itself as it scraped against the support pillar on the way down.

The door opened. Out of the corner of his eye Reno glimpsed a person dressed in white. He lolled his head around to see his doctor – and froze in place when he realized it wasn't a doctor at all. Rufus Shinra, dressed all in white, slid his hands into his trouser pockets as the door swung shut behind him.

"Well, well," he said, walking up to Reno's bedside. "You've made a real mess of yourself this time, Turk."

Reno wanted to jump out of bed and get the hell away, but he couldn't even crawl back. His limbs were leaden and clumsy, barely responding at all. Panic seeped into his bones. Why couldn't he move? Was he that badly injured?

Was it _permanent_?

"A lot has happened in the past couple of days." Rufus took one hand out of his pocket and scraped a nail down Reno's arm. "There's one particular piece of news I wanted to deliver personally."

Reno willed his arm to move, to pull away or lash out, but all he accomplished was to nudge it a little closer to his body. Rufus Shinra's fingernail stayed on Reno's skin and scratched gently at the tape that secured one of the needles in his veins.

"My old man is dead. Stabbed in the back in his own office." Rufus chuckled darkly. "The company is mine now. The Turks are mine." He locked eyes with Reno and smirked. " _You_ are mine."

"You–"

The choked-out word was too much for Reno's dry throat, and set off a cough that left him wheezing. Rufus's wicked smile grew as his gaze roamed down the Turk's helpless body.

"Can't speak, can you? Can you move?"

Reno gasped when he felt a sharp pinch on his arm. His hand just twitched uselessly, unable to respond to his will.

"How about that?" Rufus purred. "I can do anything I want with you right now."

Reno wanted to yell and protest, to get out, to push this fucker away from him, but he struggled to even draw breath. His throat was closing up; his chest caught in a vice that slowly squeezed the air out of him. All he could do was screw his eyes shut as he felt Rufus's fingers glide from his wrist to his hip, and creep across to–

"Am I interrupting, sir?"

Reno snapped his eyes open. Tseng stood in the doorway, holding the door open.

Rufus slowly straightened up, removing his hand.

"Not at all," he said smoothly as he faced Tseng, smiling a lofty smile. "I just dropped by to wish Reno a speedy recovery." He turned back to the bed-ridden Turk and smiled wider, revealing his canines. "We'll see each other soon, I'm sure."

He left, granting Tseng another conceited smile on his way out. 

Reno closed his eyes as Tseng approached his bed. Searing humiliation burned behind his eyelids, made worse by his panicked panting. The silence was grating his remaining nerves to shreds, but he couldn't come up with anything to say. He couldn't even suck in enough air to speak in the first place.

"Count your breaths," Tseng said. "Try to slow them down."

Was that it? Was that all the man had to say? How could he be so fucking _calm_ after what he'd just seen?

Because he _hadn't_ seen anything, Reno realized. Rufus had been standing with his back to the door, blocking Tseng's view with his body. His groping hand had been out of sight.

Reno slumped back, sinking deeper into misery as his head sank into his pillow. So close. Tseng had been so close to seeing that Shinra asshole for what he really was. And despite the embarrassment and humiliation, it had been a _relief_.

It still could be. Tseng was right there. Reno could just open his mouth and tell him everything.

But as he watched Tseng's stony face, he couldn't even imagine bringing it up. What if Tseng thought he was trying to make some fucked-up joke? Hell, it _was_ a fucked-up joke. Reno was a Turk, for fuck's sake, he'd been one for years and years. He wasn't supposed to let some little shit of a president walk all over him! He wasn't supposed to be so fucking _pathetic_.

Some little shit of a _president_. _President_ Rufus Shinra. What did it matter whether Tseng would believe Reno or not? Rufus Shinra owned the Shinra company, including the military and all its robots. He owned Midgar; hell, he owned half the _world_. He owned them all now.

Reno swallowed and looked away, blinking repeatedly, desperately hoping Tseng would end the silence before he'd say or do something stupid.

"Can you speak?"

"Yeah..." Reno swallowed, then coughed again, jolting his chest in odd, wrong ways. "Can't... move right."

"You've been fully sedated for almost two days. It will take a while to wear off."

"It will, right? Wear off?"

"Yes. You'll be off field duty for a while, but the doctors predict no long-term damage." Tseng's jaw tightened as he looked over Reno's body. "I'm sorry to bring up work matters so soon, but this can't wait. The plate drop brought some... unexpected consequences."

"Did it–" Reno had to stop to clear his raspy throat. "Did it work?"

Tseng was silent for a few beats.

"AVALANCHE survived. They've fled Midgar."

"What?" Reno whispered. It had all been... for nothing?

"You heard me!"

Tseng's voice snapped like a whip, flinching Reno out of the darkness he'd been sinking into. Startled, he eyed his boss. It wasn't like Tseng to show impatience like that.

"That's not why I'm here." The man's voice was once again as tightly controlled as his expression. "It's about the Ancient. Hojo's examination revealed something..." He drew in a slow breath through his nose. "...disconcerting. The girl is pregnant."

Reno felt the blood rush from his face.

"You're the only one who's kept an eye on her lately," Tseng continued. "Do you have any idea who the father could be?"

"No, I'm– I mean, I haven't... Had so much else–"

"Damn it all!" Tseng spat, glaring holes in the hospital wall.

A couple of thoughts connected in Reno's panicking mind. If Hojo had examined Aerith, it had to mean she'd been captured as planned. Could they run tests to identify the father? Reno had no idea how it worked, but he knew his genetic profile was in the Shinra database. If they could somehow check for a match...

"Does it matter who the father is?" he tried. "If she's already in Shinra custody–"

"She escaped. She's with AVALANCHE now."

Reno went cold again, chilled by a new kind of fear. "They took her?"

"Not exactly. It seems she went willingly. I had hoped we could use the father to lure her back."

Reno stared despondently at his feet. That weird SOLDIER guy, he had to be the connection. Cloud Strife, who had been identified as one of the AVALANCHE members responsible for the attacks on Midgar's Mako reactors. A former Shinra cadet, who'd been present at Nibelheim, handed over to Hojo, and later escaped... with Zack Fair.

Fucking _Zack Fair_. Not even death could keep that fucker from screwing up Reno's life.

"However," Tseng said, "we have worse problems than a group of terrorists on the run. I take it you heard about the former president's demise?"

The memory of Rufus Shinra's visit made Reno's skin crawl.

"Yeah," he muttered. "I heard."

"A president's murder is bad enough." Tseng paused. "It's even worse when the murderer is Sephiroth."

Reno's jaw dropped. He looked up at his boss, shocked out of his gloom.

"You're kidding me."

"Unfortunately, no. We have a witness."

"But Sephiroth is _dead_!"

"So we thought," Tseng said, his tone sharpening, "but it appears we were wrong."

He spent a few minutes going through everything that had happened since he'd dropped Reno off at Sector 7's support pillar, his cool, steady voice so at odds with the outrageous events he relayed. When he left, Reno's thoughts were a complete jumble.

Fucking _Sephiroth_. If one SOLDIER could return from the dead, could another? Sephiroth was one of a kind, sure, a fucking _legend_ – but the whole First Class bunch was engineered and mutated beyond belief. Hell, they barely counted as humans at all anymore. Who knew what they could do?

As the minutes trickled away and turned into hours, the drugs faded from Reno's system – and as his thoughts became more lucid, one of them began to dominate. Aerith was pregnant. As soon as Tseng said it, Reno had realized that they hadn't used protection. What a stupid fucking mistake. Had he taken two seconds to _think_ , it would have occurred to him that a flower girl from the slums couldn't afford something like the pill. Could that be why she'd acted so strange afterwards? Maybe... Maybe if he got the chance to talk to her, to apologize and explain...

But she was with AVALANCHE now. Fucking _AVALANCHE_. Who knew what a bunch of terrorists might do to her? And who knew where they might have gone, now that their base of operations was crushed under tons of steel and concrete?

Reno ground his teeth, forcing his thoughts off that particular track. So fucking what if she was with AVALANCHE? He was a Turk. Rooting out terrorists was his job, but he sure wouldn't find her if he was moping around in a hospital. That would just get him fucked, _literally_ , by that sick freak of a president. It was high time he took his life in his own goddamn hands and _did_ something for a change.

He rolled his fingers into fists – or as far as they would obey him, anyway – then stretched them out again. It was slow and clumsy going, but the sedatives had mostly worn off. He kept going, stubbornly trying harder every time. Little by little he regained control of his hands, of his aching arms and legs.

His phone was sitting on a table next to the bed. It took him a few tries to punch in the right buttons with his shaky fingers, but once the call had connected, Tseng picked up after the second ring.

"Yes?"

"Get me some clothes," Reno rasped. "I'm checking out."

"Absolutely not. You're hardly in any shape to–"

"Doesn't fucking matter what shape I'm in," he hissed. "Two Turks ain't enough to handle a clusterfuck like this."

"Three Turks," Tseng corrected. "You're forgetting our new recruit."

"You've got a bunch of terrorists on the loose, not to mention fucking _Sephiroth_. What's a rookie going to do against that lot, besides get herself killed? You need every _real_ Turk you can get out in the field, and you know it. Get me the hell out of here, _now_."

Reno glared at the wall at the foot of his bed, waiting out Tseng's silence. Eventually, he heard a faint sigh.

"Very well."


	18. Breaking Point

Through sheer stubbornness, Reno dragged himself through some of the worst days of his life. As an investigative force, the Turks were now next to useless. The loss of so many of their agents at once had crippled their intelligence networks. Even if they'd had the time to rebuild, three Turks – four, if you counted the rookie, which Reno definitely didn't – were just too few to cover _the_ _entire fucking planet_.

And as much as Reno hated to admit it, they weren't even three Turks strong. More like two and a half, at best. His ribs were taking their sweet time to heal, and he could have sworn some of Wallace's bullets had permanently lodged in his insides. They'd had a brief skirmish with Strife and a couple of other AVALANCHE bastards in Gongaga; Reno had gotten his ass handed to him, which hadn't helped one bit. Going back to the hospital wasn't an option, though. Not when he was this close.

Reeve Tuesti, a Shinra executive with a penchant for weird-ass spy gadgets, had infiltrated the AVALANCHE crew. As soon as he'd reported that a certain Wutai princess had joined the ranks, Reno had announced he was going to Wutai to recuperate. He'd thought that claiming sick leave would be the quickest way to get what he wanted, considering the circumstances. It had worked, in a way – Tseng had been quick to give him some time off – but he'd also insisted on sending Rude and the rookie with Reno. Probably thought he was suicidal or something.

So there he was, cooped up in some hole in the ground pretending to be a capital, downing beer after beer at some tourist dump of a bar while his chaperones kept a wary eye on him. They were so careful around him, so fucking _concerned_.

"Maybe we should go out for a bit?" the rookie said in a chipper voice. "See the sights?"

"Want to see the sights?" Reno muttered. "Then go see the goddamn sights."

She frowned, gnawing her bottom lip as she eyed his beer.

"We should all go. Get some fresh air, you know?"

He scoffed and gulped down several mouthfuls. A behemoth stampeding through the streets of Midgar would have been subtler than her. Tseng must have been fucking desperate.

He wondered what their boss had told her. He knew her face, knew her as Emma's sister who used to work in a slum dive the Turks had used as a home away from home back in Midgar. Had she paid him any mind before she joined up? Had she counted his drinks back then, too?

Reno emptied the rest of his glass and smacked it down.

"Get us another round, will ya?"

His words were getting soft around the edges, but he kept his glare hard and steady until she got up in a huff.

The bald guy, Rude, was watching him without a word. He was wearing his sunglasses, but Reno could feel him staring.

"What?" he barked.

Rude didn't reply. He didn't stop staring, either. The guy had barely said a word to him after Reno had discovered his girlfriend was an AVALANCHE spy. It was years ago and still this asshole held a grudge. Fucking _years_. It wasn't like Reno had fucked that damn girlfriend of his or anything; he'd just been doing his job. Talk about shooting the messenger.

When the rookie showed up with Reno's beer, he drained a third of it and cursed Tseng to the deepest, darkest abyss for saddling him with a pair of such shits.

The front door opened. Swearing under his breath, Reno tilted his head away from the sunlight that beamed into the dimly lit bar.

"Y-you!" the rookie shrieked, leaping off her chair.

Reno swung his head back around, his hand already on the handle of his mag rod. In the doorway stood Strife, next to the dark-haired woman who had smashed Reno's nose at the top of Sector 7's support pillar. He barely paid them any mind, though, because behind them was the face Reno had waited for all these weeks. Sweet Aerith, with her luscious brown hair and her soft, pink lips. He could barely breathe.

"Get ready to die!" the rookie yelled, dropping into a defensive crouch.

Reno nearly pulled out his mag rod just so he could smack her up the head, but Strife's hand on that giant sword kept him from drawing his weapon.

"Elena," he groaned instead. "You talk too damn much."

"W-what?"

The rookie had turned to him, gaping and blinking – and leaving her back wide open. Fortunately, the terrorists seemed too puzzled to take advantage of it. Reno seized his chance instead; he slouched deeper in his chair, forcing his limbs to relax.

"You're ruining our fucking vacation, that's what."

It was as much for the AVALANCHE crew as it was for the reckless rookie. The last thing he wanted was a fight, especially with Aerith standing right there.

"...Even the booze tastes bad now," Rude muttered.

Reno breathed a little easier, knowing at least two of them didn't want trouble. He wasn't even bothered by the fact that Rude must have decided Reno couldn't handle himself in a fight right now. The guy was probably right about that, anyway.

Strife traded a look with his companions and shrugged, then walked past the Turks to the bar counter. The dark-haired girl followed him inside, glaring daggers at them all, but Aerith remained in the doorway. Her gaze darted between Reno and her new pals.

"I'll wait outside," she finally called to the others and let the door fall shut.

The rookie sat down again, looking like a giant tomato in a blonde wig.

"...Sorry," she mumbled.

"Whatever." Reno pushed himself up, trying to ignore the wobble in his knees. "I gotta take a leak."

The kitchen door was right next to the bathrooms. It wasn't too hard to sneak out past the chef and out through the staff entrance into Wutai's hot, humid air.

Reno found her just around the corner. Aerith was leaning over a bright red railing, staring down into the river that snaked its way through the village. It was surreal, seeing her in bright daylight among Wutai's curved roofs and lush greens. Her long, brown bangs almost seemed to shimmer, highlighted by the sun as they moved with a lazy breeze. She wore the same pink dress he'd seen on her the last time they'd met face to face, the same worn boots. The same pink ribbon in her hair. She didn't look up as he came up beside her, or when he leaned down to rest his arms on the wooden railing, copying her pose.

Reno frowned at the water below. Some Wutai birds he didn't recognize flapped their wings on the opposite side of the river, creating ripples that glittered in the sunlight. In such a perfect setting for their reunion, far beyond anything he could have come up with himself, he was the one falling short. No matter how he tried, he couldn't come up with a greeting that didn't make him cringe.

"Here to bring me in again?" Her tone was frigid compared to the sun's playful rays.

"Nah, the rookie is just a bit hot-headed. She's gonna give the rest of us a bad name."

Once upon a time he could bring a smile to her face with jokes like that. Now she just scoffed and turned away.

"You Shinra suits stand for everything that's wrong with the Planet."

"I ain't here as a company man. I'm here as..."

Reno's courage failed him and he had to take a few moments to rethink what he needed to say. The right words refused to come, though. Maybe he should have eased up on those beers after all.

"Look," he finally said. "There's something I gotta tell you. I know Hojo ran some tests on you, but you didn't hear the results before you ran off." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "You're pregnant."

He opened them again when she remained silent, to find she hadn't even moved. She was still staring out over the water, her eyes hard and her jaw taut – but he saw no sign of surprise on her face.

"You knew," he mumbled.

"Why are you here?" she asked flatly.

"Isn't it obvious?" he blurted out, taken aback by her coldness. "I mean... It's mine, right?"

Aerith's knuckles turned white as her fingers squeezed the railing. "What does it matter?"

"How can you say that? If it's mine–"

She spun around, facing him at last.

" _It doesn't matter_ ," she snarled, green eyes blazing. "The elders at Cosmo Canyon explained everything to me. What I hear are the voices of every living thing on this Planet. Everyone you've killed has added their voice to the Lifestream, and their voices are _deafening_ as they scream that you're a _murderer_!"

Reno stumbled back, stunned into silence.

"You'll see when it's your turn," she spat. "People like you don't return to the Lifestream. The souls of those you've murdered won't allow it. You'll be as alone in death as you are in life!"

She took off. Reno clutched the railing with both hands, reeling from her vitriol, and just stared after her.

* * *

 

When Reno returned to the bar, the AVALANCHE pair had cleared out. The rookie flinched when he dropped himself into the chair beside her.

"There you are," she sighed with obvious relief. "I almost came looking for you!"

"Why?" he muttered automatically, though he'd barely been listening.

"You were in there such a long time! I was afraid that... You know, something might have..."

Elena dropped her gaze as she trailed off, blushing again. Such a fucking rookie. Did she know she was worrying about a fucking mass murderer? Did she even know the plate had been dropped on Shinra orders? He was tempted to announce it to her, right then and there. He wanted to shout it out loud, to announce it to the whole fucking _world_ , just to see what she'd say. Instead, he reached for his beer.

"I just went for a goddamn piss. Don't be so fucking weak, Elena." _Or you'll end up like me_.

Reno raised his pint to his lips, not bothering to check for her reaction. His head was still buzzing with his previous conversation; his whole _body_ was practically prickling with it, as though he'd stumbled head-first into a nest of ants.

When had Aerith changed so completely? She'd never liked Shinra or the Turks much, but she'd never spat such hate at him or anyone else at the company. And what had all that Lifestream shit been about? She'd sounded like one of those weird preachers who sometimes popped up on street corners, yammering on about souls and sin and shit. He'd never had her pegged as the sort to fall for that kind of crap. Had those AVALANCHE weirdos filled her head with some brainwashing bullshit? The whole bunch was beginning to sound like a fucking cult.

Cult or not, one part of what they'd crammed into her head wasn't bullshit. Reno stared into his glass as Aerith's accusations raged in his head. Those AVALANCHE bastards had seen him on the support pillar. They'd seen him push that button. Of course they'd told her. She'd never forgive him now.

What exactly had he hoped for? That the two of them would just waltz off into the sunset, start a happy little family? Not with their kind of baggage. Not with the fucking Shinra company looming over their heads.

The old darkness was returning, sinking its claws into his ribs; dragging down his shoulders, his head, his mouth toward the drink in his hand. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? Go back to Midgar? What was waiting for him there? Nothing – except a sadistic freak of a president, finally free to fuck Reno up any way he wished.

He looked at the glum faces around their table. A man who barely spoke two words to him and never unless absolutely necessary. A woman who looked at him as if he'd just crawled out of the gutter. He didn't know these people. The people he'd known were all gone. Ruluf, Freyra, Alvis, the rest of the Turks. These two at his table wore the same suit, but Reno didn't belong with them. He didn't belong anywhere.

"You know..." He paused until the others had lifted their sullen faces. "There have been hard times being a Turk." He tilted his glass, watching the amber liquid slosh around, as a bitter smile curved his lips. "But all in all... I'm glad I did it."

He raised his glass and poured it all down his throat, then got up and walked out of the bar. He didn't stop at their inn. He didn't stop at the village gates. He didn't stop walking, and he didn't look back.


	19. Like a Shadow

It was pure coincidence that Reno spotted her in a dingy inn that morning, in some backwater town on the northern continent. Aerith didn't see him sitting in the corner, hiding behind the newspaper he snatched up to hide his face.

He just couldn't catch a break, could he? Gaia was crammed full of godforsaken shitholes, so why the hell did she have to show up in this one? Reno had just arrived the night before, for fuck's sake, after a long miserable trek from the neighboring village. He didn't want to run out into the cold again just to avoid a bunch of goddamn terrorists.

But as Reno kept a surreptitious eye on Aerith, his anger dwindled. She looked pale and haggard, leaning heavily against the bar as she asked for directions, and her thick winter coat only made the rest of her seem more frail. He eyed her waist, concealed by her coat, and wondered if she still carried his child.

He watched her through the window as she left, expecting to see her to join up with those AVALANCHE yahoos, but no one was waiting for her. He frowned as she headed straight for the road out of town, all by herself. How much had happened since he last saw her? He'd dropped his phone into a Wutai river and had made damn sure to stay below radar, which meant all he'd heard about Shinra and AVALANCHE were the scattered rumors he'd picked up here and there. Had Aerith left AVALANCHE behind?

She had no one with her now, that much was clear. As she trudged out of the village and onward through the snow, he realized that he couldn't let her go out there all by herself. The northern wilderness was full of creepy critters that loved to make meals out of careless travelers, and the cold would make short work of anyone unlucky enough to wind up lost and alone.

What little Reno carried around was in the backpack on the seat beside him. He snatched it up, threw it over his shoulders, and hurried out of the inn's warmth.

She veered off the main road only minutes out of the village and headed northwest into the forest. Puzzled, Reno followed. He didn't know of any settlements between them and the mountain range that cut across the whole northern continent. The trees made it easier to stay out of her sight, though, and only a sprinkling of snow had made its way all the way to the ground.

They marched for several hours before Aerith set down her pack and took a seat on it. She removed one of her chunky boots and lifted her foot into her lap to massage her toes through her gray, woolen stockings. She looked so tired, hunched over like that, rubbing her feet. Reno longed to do it for her, and to warm her cold fingers between his hands. To ask what the hell she was doing out here in the middle of nowhere, when he could go find a nice inn, nicer than the one they'd left, and get her a room with a warm bath and a cozy bed. But he knew that if he so much as showed his face, she'd scream at him to get lost, so he remained where he was, keeping an eye on the darkening shadows around them.

As exhausted as she seemed, her stops were few on her way through the forest. When the trees thinned, he worried she might spot him, but whatever was spurring her onwards in her mysterious quest must have kept her too preoccupied to look over her shoulder. She didn't look back once as he trailed after her through a desolate gorge. She led him along strange winding paths, made from oddly carved slabs of stone. And, finally, she brought him to a place the likes of which he had never seen before.

As she made her way across a stone bridge that spanned a wide, silent river, Reno squinted at the strange structures in the distance, trying to make them out. They seemed manmade, like the houses and towers of an ancient city. A city long since dead, judging by the gaping doorways and windows. Even the trees were white and barren, like bleached bones sticking out of the ground.

An ancient city. _The Ancient_. The connection chilled Reno to the bone.

The more he stared at the desolate city, the less he wanted to be there. The empty windows seemed full of long-dead ghosts, watching him as he watched them. No, not just watching. _Judging_ him... and finding him wanting.

Reno blinked, shaking off his creepy thoughts. Aerith was already halfway along the main road through the city. If he stayed there daydreaming, he'd lose her.

Onwards he crept, past empty streets and hollow houses, trying to ignore the persistent prickling at the back of his neck. The road brought him in under the branches of a gigantic dead tree, and to a passage cut through the boulders beneath it. It was tall and narrow, its walls made up of withered roots and jagged rocks that snagged his clothes. Whatever the passage led to was brightly lit, making it clear that Aerith had already gone through. Reno cursed under his breath and picked up his pace.

He was past the midway point when he heard the steady beat of footsteps behind him. Heavy steps, like the boots of a soldier. Reno spun around, just in time to see the end of the passage blocked out by someone. A tall someone, with broad shoulders and a billowing black coat. Silver pauldrons, long silver hair.

_Sephiroth._

The mad SOLDIER of legend, the one who had defeated death itself – and he was marching down the passage, straight toward Reno. Unbridled fear burst through Reno's veins. His first instinct was to duck away out of sight, but before he could follow it, he realized it was pointless. His silhouette was painted clear as day against the bright light at the end of the tunnel. Even without his superhuman SOLDIER eyes, Sephiroth would have spotted him already.

Sephiroth must have followed Aerith. Why else would he be here? He must have come for _her_. If Reno stepped aside and let the SOLDIER pass, he might just escape with his life.

But once Sephiroth walked past, there would be no more obstacles between him and Aerith. She'd be at his mercy. She and her unborn child.

Reno had no hope of winning, but maybe the noise would warn her. Maybe he could buy her a few minutes to get away.

Reno had more than his fair share of vile deeds on his conscience. He'd done many questionable things; things done in the name of the so-called greater good, but which had felt completely wrong. This was the first time he knew without question, without hesitation, what was _right_.

Staring down his enemy, Reno pulled out his mag rod and switched it on.

* * *

 

Reno sat in a pool of his own blood, coughing up more by the minute. His limbs had gone as cold as the stone beneath him. He could barely feel them anymore, much less lift them.

He'd never been a match for SOLDIER. He'd tried his usual feints, his usual tricks, but his reflexes had been too slow against the most famous First Class SOLDIER of them all. It had been so easy for Sephiroth to run his sword through Reno's stomach. So _pathetically_ easy.

He couldn't even speak without dissolving into a coughing fit. Couldn't raise his voice to warn her.

So fucking pathetic.

"It's that Turk motherfucker!"

The shout trickled into Reno's awareness, one word at a time. He lifted his head, willed his eyes open. A burly black man was barreling down the passage, heralded by the sound of stomping boots and breaking twigs. Barret Wallace. Reno closed his eyes and prepared himself for the final blow.

"Shinra must have come for Aerith!" A woman's voice.

"He's still alive," said another man. The voice sounded familiar. Reno wanted to look at him, but his head was too heavy.

"Not for long," Wallace growled, accompanied by metallic whirring and clicking.

"Don't waste your bullets, Barret. Look."

Someone poked Reno in the chest, shoving him against the rough boulder behind him. He gasped, his back arching off the rock as a shock of white-hot pain racked his torso.

"See? He's been run through. Someone took him down, and it wasn't Aerith. We might have bigger problems than this asshole."

Cloud Strife, Reno finally recognized. The weird SOLDIER.

"Shit," Wallace spat. "The hell do we do with this fucker, then?"

One SOLDIER might be able to take down another, even one as powerful as Sephiroth. Reno forced his eyes open again. The passage had grown darker; all he could make out when he looked up was a circle of grim faces, surrounding him on all sides. He tried to speak, tried to warn them, but his words were lost in the wet cough that tore through him.

"Let him bleed," Strife said. "Shinra might have sent more than one Turk. We have to hurry before they get to her."

He stared down at Reno, his mouth in a thin line and his eyes blazing blue, and in his lightheaded state, Reno could have sworn that he was looking up at a blonder, younger Zack Fair. A vengeful Fair, reborn to turn his back on Reno and leave him to die.

Reno tried to speak again as they stepped over his body, one by one, but his mouth was full of blood. He tried to catch the eye of one of them and plead with his eyes, but none of them looked back. The echo of their footsteps grew fainter and fainter, until he heard nothing but his own gurgling breaths.

Pathetic. So fucking pathetic.

He was so cold. His eyelids had become too heavy. No matter how he struggled, they drooped lower and lower, until they fell shut. The darkness crept from his vision into his mind, until the last spark of thought was extinguished, and darkness was all that remained.


	20. Epilogue

Reno lay on the ground, shivering from a chill he couldn't escape. He wanted to move, but he couldn't. His limbs were made of lead, too heavy for him to lift off the freezing ground. Even if he could, he didn't know where to go. Everything was pitch black... and in that darkness was another.

He couldn't remember her name, but he knew her laughter. Cruel and sharp, tearing through his mind like jagged shards of ice. He curled up and pressed his hands over his ears, but it did nothing to block that terrible sound. He sobbed, begged her to stop, but to no avail.

How had he gotten here? When? He couldn't remember. His memories were worn thin, dotted with holes like lace. All he knew was the dark, the cold, that mocking laughter – and that it was all his fault. He could only blame himself; that's what she kept telling him.

Reno gasped in a choked breath – and the scent of rich earth and delicate flowers flooded his senses. His eyes flew wide open in shock. Gone was the darkness, the laughter. A woman stood beside him, but it was a different woman. Reno remembered _her_ name. Her name was etched into his very essence with bright, glowing letters.

"Aerith?"

She kneeled down beside him and held out her hand.

"Come on. It's time to go."

Her hand was soft and warm, warmer than anything he'd felt in... days? Months? _Years_? Her touch dispelled the weight that held him down, filled him with a glow that made his limbs feel light as air, and he could rise to his knees, to his feet at last.

Reno gazed at her face, drinking in those lovely green eyes, and that sweet smile that held a just a touch of flirty mischief. He remembered the delicate line of her nose, the shape of her eyebrows. He remembered everything about her.

Everything else, though... He finally looked around, trying to get his bearings. A sea of green leaves and yellow flowers spread out around them as far as he could see.

"Where are we?"

"That's not important. What _is_ , though, is where we're going. Come on."

Aerith took a couple of steps, tugging gently on his hand, but Reno stayed put, staring at their joined hands. Hazy images were returning to him, rising slowly to the surface like bubbles caught in molasses. He remembered white snow and white trees. He'd been... following her? But... she was the one who had found him.

"Where... did you come from?"

She giggled, and it was the sweetest sound he'd ever heard.

"That's not the right question either. Maybe you should try 'why'."

For the first time in a long while, Reno smiled.

"Alright. 'Why'?"

Her playful grin softened. "I'm here because it's time you were forgiven."

The echo of cold laughter rang through Reno's mind; distant now, but still strong enough to chill his spine like a shiver.

"I don't deserve it," he mumbled. It was what the voice had told him, again and again; so many times that it had become his truth.

Sadness tinged Aerith's smile as she took his hand in both of hers.

"I've seen evil," she said softly. "I have _felt_ it. You're not it. I know that now." She gave his hand another tug. "Now come on, slowpoke. It's time."

She led him through the field of flowers toward a distant glow. It grew stronger with every step, until he could make out a river beyond the field. A glowing river, tinged green like Mako, but so much brighter. As they approached, he could hear whispers at the edge of his hearing. What began as a couple of voices soon became a dozen, then more and more, until he heard hundreds all around them.

A sense of urgency came over him; a sudden certainty that once they reached that glowing river, it'd be too late. He stopped, holding onto Aerith's hand.

"Wait. There's something I need to..."

Reno squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to focus. Something was nagging in the back of his mind, something important. It hadn't been just her. It had been... them?

"You were... We... There was... a..." He tried to remember what he'd wanted to ask, but the memories of thousands upon thousands of other minds made it hard for him to find his own.

"Shh." Aerith stroked the back of her fingers over his cheek and smiled. "Go, Reno. Return to the Lifestream."

She took a step back and held out her hand toward the brilliant river, only it wasn't a river in the ground anymore. He blinked in confusion, turning toward the great flow of energy that rippled through the air before them.

"The Planet welcomes you," Aerith whispered. "You belong here with us."

And in that final moment, before all his thoughts and memories dispersed in the Planet's lifeblood, Reno knew it to be true.


End file.
